


The Sea Sucks

by OhWhatAShock



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU, M/M, Magic, Mermaids, Pirates, Soldiers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2018-02-17 18:21:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 65
Words: 82,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2318921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhWhatAShock/pseuds/OhWhatAShock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mermaids eat children, according to society. Society does not like mermaids. Steve is starting to think society might be wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An introduction and a physical description

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic and if I actually do get a response its possible I might faint from the excitement. It will be messy and a tad unorganized, and the chapters will be kept very short. There will, however, be a lot of them.  
> I'm not yet sure where I'm going with this fic but there will most likely be a lot more characters showing up. Strictly movieverse though, as I haven't read the comics. I like mermaids. 
> 
> Ps. The title is a pun as well as a direct translation of a swedish saying, "sjön suger". Which basically means you get hungry when you're at sea.

”So this is what a mermaid looks like”  
  
The sentence escaped in a throaty breath. Steve shuddered, but the man seemed not to have heard him. Steve couldn’t help but marvel at the sight. All the stories he had heard, everything he had learnt about them in school and read about them in the papers was wrong. Mermaids were beautiful.  
Society didn’t like mermaids. They were ugly fish-like creatures, not really people at all. They had seaweed like dripping hair like a ghost from a nightmare, rolling over their faces. They had hollow cheeks and bulging fish-like cold, cold eyes. Their skin would be greenish, as if they were carrying the plague, and their arms bony and cold to the touch. Their legs, if they had legs, would be covered in slimy green scales, with webbed feet and hands, and claws at the end of their fingers. They carried of and ate babies, or lured children to drown when the tide went out.  
Steve had always doubted that last piece of Intel. He really didn’t think mermaids could sink battleships by luring sharks to bite holes in them. He didn’t think mermaids could command sharks. But he had always known, in the back of his mind, that mermaids were monsters. Creatures, more animal than human, things to be feared and turned away from.  
  
This pretty much disapproved anything of the sort.  
The man, no the boy, on the cusp of manhood, standing in front of him, was most definitely a mermaid, and the most beautiful thing Steve had ever seen.  
His hair was dark and cut close to his skull in uneven tufts, as if someone had gone loose on him with a pair of sheep-shearers. It seemed almost endearing. His face was open and relaxed, with high cheekbones and a clear gaze. Steve scoffed; the boy had tried for a beard but ended up with something that looked like a circle growing around his mouth and down his chin. Not a very successful first attempt. His lips were lovely, pink and plump, but Steve quickly turned his thoughts away from them. He already had more distractions than he needed.  
The youth was tanned; Steve could see the markings where his skin would usually be covered by cloth. He had taken his shirt of and for that, Steve was grateful. His skin was healthy and almost glowing; the muscles in his back working as he lifted the heavy water jars and emptied them into the tub.  
Steve finally let his gaze glide downwards again, he couldn’t help it. The boy had taken of his breeches but left his loincloth on, which provided an excellent view of his legs and left quite a lovely suggestion of the shape of his hips. But though Steve lingered at the sight of those hips, the boy’s legs were magical.  
Strong, tanned, well-shaped legs for every intent and purpose, but they were covered in scales. Not the kind that Steve would have expected, that is, slimy green fishy scales. These were lovely.  
  
In the shadow of the room they were barely noticeable, but every time the boy fetched a new urn he passed through the ray of sunlight that came through the small window. His legs sparkled. The skin was still visible, but seemed to have jewels imbedded in it, as if every inch of it was covered with sparkling drops of water. They shone like gold, with the clarity of the rarest amber.  
The boy hurried along his task with an air of nervousness, casting glances at the window every now and then. Steve behind his screen could only thank his nervous disposition that had prompted him to hide when he had heard the boy come in. Had his presence been known he most certainly would not have gotten to see this.  
  
“Tony!”  
The boy flinched at the angry voice, quickly slugged the last of the urns across the floor and then hastily pulled on his garments. After making sure his legs were properly covered and his breeches tied around his ankles he scrambled out of the room and up the stairs as the owner of the voice gathered momentum to properly fling his wrath at the boy. The cursing could be heard even down in the cellar where Steve stood. Apparently the owner of the voice considered the time it had taken for the boy to fill the tub far too long.  
Steve did not emerge from his hiding space until he was sure that the boy apparently called Tony had disappeared up the stairs for good.  
That night, though his companions tried to drag him into conversation, he remained distant. He found that somehow his gaze always fixated on the dark haired boy who sometimes slipped through the crowded room.


	2. How miserable can a life get and how much can you complain about it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even mermaids have their problems. Sometimes those problems consist of getting kelp stuck in their hair. Sometimes those problems consist of the risk of getting horribly executed because of superstitions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tony's perspective, yay! And we finally learn a bit about him.

Tony’s week had started off bad and had rapidly gotten worse. This was almost an achievement in itself. First of all he had gotten stuck at this stupid inn, which was not only incredibly dangerous, but also utterly idiotic.  
What really grated on him was not the threat that hung over his head, but rather the nagging suspicion that for all his brilliance Tony might be a moron.  
At this time of year no one in a situation similar to Tonys should be travelling, but then the incident had occurred and he’d been forced to go. Stupid clan heads and their stupid demands. Stupid traditions and stupid spoiled old gods. Summer in the north and winter in the south were to be avoided as much as possible, since those tended to be clogged up with merchants and navies at sea and bandits at land.  
They had decided he’d only go if he could get on a large enough caravan. Even the old chiefs would not risk anything else. Travelling alone in a large company was always safest. If something happened it was bad enough to lose one, and somehow, mermaids in groups tended to attract bad luck while on land.  
There. Even thinking it made him shiver. He was a mermaid, a fact no one could ever find out. Tony stared dully at the rag in his hand, pausing momentarily in his task of shining whatever the landlord had stubbed his toe on that morning, trying to remember however he came to end up like this. Oh yeah. Old geezers who were sticklers for rituals, and a damn stupid place to traditionally hold said rituals.  
But except for being in a large group of mermaids, being in a large group was the sensible thing to do. So the safest way for any mermaid to travel was usually alone in a large caravan, taking a job as an errand boy or scout or other lowly thing. Well, the safest way to travel on land of course. In water it was an entirely different thing.  
  
The bandits had been a bit of a surprise. Tony had been a stable boy this time, a good job with access to warmth and hay, but not one of the first to be able to abandon camp if necessary. He always felt so guilty running away from horses. Usually they were picked up by a new owner intent on taking care of them for profit, so no big deal, but still. Really, he had been sloppy. The caravan was one of the biggest around, and usually went the same path every year. It had become almost a tradition. The big spring march, they called it in the mountains. Few bandits would dare attack it, these had been either suicidal or mad. Anyway, those who had survived would be hunted down by the nearest garrison; it’s commander had married his daughter to the leader of the caravan.  
So Tony had run. His fellow travelers would be picked up by the soldiers, checked over, reimbursed by some aristocrat whose responsibility this land was, and then set on their merry way again. But Tony had his own specific reason to avoid official scrutiny. He could only remain in a group as long as it’s members didn’t look to closely at him. Stupid bandits and stupid Tony. He had left most of his money behind. Probably shared out amongst the other stable boys or used to pay for whores by now.  
  
He gritted his teeth. To make bad luck worse, the first inn he had stumbled upon was owned by a complete arse. With no money, no companions, no plausible backstory and no equipment to get through the mountains on his own, Tony had been forced to remain. He took a job as a stable boy again, but seeing as how the inn’s stable was subpar and more expensive than the family next door who simply rented out a spot in their barn, not many horses were lodged there.  
Thus he became the punching sack of the inn keeper and his family. Any job to tiring or dirty to do themselves, they’d give to Tony. Any annoyance or grievance they suffered he’d also suffer for. Sometimes he’d suffer for no reason at all. Two dreadful weeks and he still hadn’t found a way out. The innkeeper didn’t pay him. Food and board was what he got, and he couldn’t even walk away.  
  
Which he should. He really should just walk out the gates and take his chances with the mountains. Spring was advancing every day and if you buried yourself in pine needles you could survive a night outside. Food was scarcer, especially the kind of food Tony needed. And that was the problem. Had he been a human he could have done both. Gone through the mountains and probably survive. Or stay at the inn for another couple of weeks and definitely survive. But Tony was a mermaid, or merman, which created a whole range of delightful obstacles to either course.  
He needed things he could not get himself so far from the sea. At the inn the risk of him getting discovered increased day by day. To top it all off, the landlord had started eyeing him in a particularly nasty way.  
Tony was used to defending himself from drunks and suchlike, but if he punched the landlord the man would stop feeding him. It was a problem.  
Well, not as large and looming as the problem of what they would do to him if they found out he was a mermaid. Beings that were said to eat babies were not usually protected by the law.  
  
A loud clanking nearby caused him to spin around, ready to defend himself. But it was just one of those stupid peacocks who had winched up some water to the well. Tony hated soldiers, but especially gaudy ones. A soldier should be able to fight, which in Tony’s world meant someone who could sneak up on you or at least you know, raise their arm without being impeded by their jacket. This particular troop had arrived two days ago, and Tony had a nasty feeling about them. Their captain, overstuffed peacock though he was, seemed sharp somehow. The officers were clearly a cut above the privates. Tony couldn’t help but wonder if they had pissed of some lord somewhere and gotten stuck with this miserable lot as punishment. He shook his head. Not his problem.  
He had just decided to take what he could carry and steal of into the night as soon as possible, when the bell rung for dinner. If he was late he would have none at all, and while he usually could go for days without food he needed whatever he could get now.  
Tony got up and followed the general throng into the hall. 

…


	3. A rousing speech, duly ignored

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear. Do you think Tony could learn to think before he acts?

When Tony snuck into the kitchens he was met by Louise, a maid who usually had, if not a smile, then a t least a grimace that could be interpreted as friendly for him. Instead of giving him whatever food she had been allowed to deal him, she simply stuck some bread in his hand and showed him back into the hall. Tony frowned. This was not usual behavior. Unusual behavior was not good. He should not be here. 

He relaxed a little though, as he saw pretty much everyone at the inn had been gathered. Every guest and servant and most of the neighbours too, Tony noted. He snuck into a shadow and tried to eat his bread. 

The innkeeper was trying to attract the crowd’s attention and only partially succeeding. He gave up in the end and simply gave over the stage to the blond captain of the troops. 

“Good evening. We are sorry to interrupt your day, but we are here on official business form Count Hapsode. It concerns a caravan that was attacked a little over a fortnight ago.” 

Tony nearly choked. Damn that man and damn his own stupidity. Now he knew he was a moron. He should have left the moment he saw the first horse coming up the hill.  
Thankfully, is own internal struggle had been silent, and nobody even cast a single glance his way. The captain continued without interruption. 

“Unfortunately, we have been unable to account for some of its members. While the majority has been found, there are still some heads missing. We hope to at least recover their bodies. Any information pertaining to the finding of any such a member will be rewarded. The garrison head has taken the attack as a personal offence.” 

The blond mountain of a man hid a smile. “Certain items believed to belonging to these people have been found, and we would not like to touch these without the knowledge that their owners can either consent or are dead.” 

Tony spent the next few minutes cursing himself, the cold weather, his nature, his stupidity, the landlord, the gods above and most of all the blond bucket-head in the blue suit. Mermaid curses are inventive; mermaids have a lot of things to swear about. Before he had finished he had probably cursed himself to hell and back twice. 

So they really were looking for him. Well, him and others. But still him, indirectly. The bucket-head kept on talking, but Tony wasn’t listening. It was probably just the usual drabble of “proud to serve” “civic duty” “our lord salutes you” and “your cooperation would be greatly appreciated”. The droning went on but Tony couldn’t have cared any less. His head was mulling over every possible escape route there was. He wouldn’t even wait for the cover of darkness, he’d just grab as much as he could and run. First get to the kitchen, shoo away Louise, and collect the thing that would keep him alive. Then via the landlord’s office to pick up some parchment, through the stables to get a blanket and his shoes, into the herb garden where the wall was low, down the eastside slope and run towards the hills as fast as his legs could carry him.  
It seemed like a good plan. Only thing left was to set it in motion. 

People started moving, and Tony realized the soldier had finished his speech. He got up and stalked off.  
…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Three chapters in two days?! Outrageous. Why isn't she typing faster!" is what I'm imagining you thinking.  
> Thank you so much for you positive response. It makes me so happy.


	4. "The Box"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is pondering a block of wood. It's troubling him quite a lot. Poor Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yay! Fourth chapter and we're keeping up the pace. Stick with me, folks! This chapter might seem confusing but it will make sense in the end, I promise.

Steve had a headache. This was not an uncommon occurrence, but recently it seemed to be getting worse.  
Truth was, he just had too much to think about. Bucky, his second in command, bent over his shoulder.  
“Come on cap. You tense up like that ‘n’ the whole squad tiptoes around you like they’re walking on eggs. At least share some of your troubles.”  
Steve considered this. While he did not really want to share some of the information he carried, Bucky could be trusted not to talk. Talking over his problems might provide him with a fresh perspective. On the other hand, he didn’t want to reveal what he had seen in the bathroom the previous afternoon. It somehow, didn’t feel … right, to talk about the boy yet.  
“No thanks Buck. But go make yourself useful. Make Wilson angry. That tends to distract people.” Bucky grinned, and stalked off to enjoy his favourite pastime, annoying Sam Wilson.  
Steve fondly watched him go. Bucky and Sam were amongst his most trusted friends. He was glad to have them on his squad. But he turned back to the problem at hand. Maybe if he went over the facts one more time, he’d realize something. 

 

A little over two weeks ago the caravan known as the big spring march was attacked by a small independent band of outlaws, most likely for reasons of desperation. The winter had been long and hard and food had been scarce for everyone. Some food was stolen along with a few personal items, but except for a knocked over lantern no real damage to property had occurred. Two reported deaths, both of whom seemed to have been caused by stampeding horses. Several broken bones and minor injuries, yet no real damage to the caravan. Members had either stayed and fought, hid in the bushes, or ran away. Most reassembled the next morning, when the soldiers showed up.  
The garrison head took the attack as a personal affront. On his orders the majority of the bandits had been hunted down and either killed or brought in to be tried for theft, arson and accidental manslaughter. No problems there. Even all the people had been recovered. As in most cases, the leaders of this caravan had kept a rooster of all the travelers. 

Steve heaved another sigh and thought back to his speech in the dining hall. He never liked telling lies, even to strangers, but he couldn’t reveal everything. He had told them they were looking for the last members of the caravan, but in fact there had only been one person unaccounted for. A stable boy with no family, a person of little consequence. If matters had been different, the search would have gone on for a week and then called off. Not even the Heads personal vengeance would warrant anything more extensive.  
Steve’s eyes wandered over to his wooden trunk in the corner. He swore he could feel the presence of the stupid thing. 

 

They had found a box. It wasn’t particularly remarkable, not very big, or ornate, or heavy, or valuable. The only thing about it was that it had been well hidden. They never would have found it at all if one of the loose horses hadn’t kicked over the stump it was buried under. Somebody picked it up and brought it along to the fort where it would have been reunited with its owner. Thing was, no one from the caravan came forward to claim it. They decide to open it. They couldn’t. It was apparent that is a box, and probably manmade, because when they shook it, they could hear something rattling inside. They just couldn’t find any seams in it. It was as if somebody had chopped out a rectangular piece of wood, smoothed its surface and then buried it. In the end they gave up and tried chopping it open with an axe. Not a mark was left on it. No blade, no fire, no pressure of any kind could affect it. 

At the time there happened to be a wizard at the fort. Humans were never particularly good with magic, but the few individuals who did happen to have the inclination usually ended up studying it at the school in the capital. The only magic school in the kingdom intended for humans. Even the strongest human wizard never seemed to be able to compete with other races, but they were still useful.  
This one had ended up at the fort as part of his practical training. He was supposed to relay messages for the Head, and he was quite advanced in his studies, so they brought him up to look at the thing. The poor boy had stayed with the box in a room for the better part of a day, and when he came out, he looked greenish.  
According to him, the box was most definitely magical, and more impressive than any other artifact he had seen so far. 

Steve picked up the report the secretary had jotted down as the young man had talked.  
“The object seems to be aware of its surroundings. Not to the extent that it could be called sentient, but most likely it is waiting for its owner or the right conditions to reveal its contents. It appears to be a container of some sorts, but whatever treasure or disaster merits the use of such an artifact to hide, I cannot fathom.  
The owner has gone to great pains to ensure that the content be safely locked away, for the power of the artifact is evident. What traps it hides for the prying hands and what mechanisms unlock it, I cannot imagine, but a wise man would stay far away from tinkering with the box.  
The box seems to be requiring something, like a fuel of some kind. Currently I would hesitate to hazard a guess as to what this substance might be, or how to administer it. I do not know what the results of not providing this substance would b, but I do not want to find out. The box seems to be calling out for something, louder and louder, which is what lead me to believe that it might be sentient. The time I spent with the box was brief, but according to my calculations from how the insistence of the call increased, the owner of the box hid it during or slightly before the raid.  
I suggest you find the owner and fast.” 

Steve remembered how scared the young wizard had seemed. He had never seem a magic user seem so rattled before. The insistence of the young man that they find the owner of the box had scared everyone.  
That was the real reason they were looking. They needed to know what to do about the box. The wizard had acted like it was a threat, and snuck out of the castle the following night, to put as much distance between him and the box as possible.  
Their best bet was to look amongst the passengers and crew of the caravan. No one had recognized the box. Steve was pretty good at telling when people were lying, but he hadn’t seen any deceit when they’d questioned the people. The only member left was that damn stable boy. So they had to find him, dead or alive, and either question him or look for someone else alive. They needed answers. 

They hadn’t been able to leave it in the garrison. There were a lot of women with children who were still there. Lots of kids without mothers as well. So now the damn thing lay wrapped in wool in his personal trunk. The garrison head had sent for reinforcements, both soldiers and wizards, from the capital, but it would take them a while to arrive. In the meantime, Steve and his squad were stuck scouring the mountainside, looking for a damn stable boy, with the thing ticking away like a bomb. They made sure to keep up regular communication with the fort. No one wanted to lose sight of them and not know where the box ended up. 

That was their mission. Find the boy, question him, figure out what to do about the damn box or at least hold out until reinforcements arrive. Their cover was to look for missing people as well as announcing the new laws that had come into effect last year.  
So far there had been no hint of anything. No new faces, no strangers in any of the towns they’d been to. They’d have to leave this inn tomorrow. Steve had already delayed their departure by a day. But he’d had reason to. He’d found a mermaid.  
A mermaid didn’t fit in to the story. A mermaid messed things up. Then again, everything about this was messed up. Right now, it seemed like he had two course of action he could take. Either he could report the mermaid, and send some of his men back with it to the fort. Then continue looking for the stable boy. Maybe he was some kind of sorcerer’s apprentice who’d lost his travel expenses after fetching some item for his master and been forced to go as a stable boy, or…  
Even to Steve it sounds unlikely.  
This whole thing was messed up. On the other hand, if the mermaid ... if the mermaid turned out to be the stable boy, then things might actually make sense. Mermaids were vicious creatures, and apparently good at magic. He could have sneaked in with the caravan and forgotten the box. That would also explain why he hadn’t come forward. This would solve a whole lot of Steve’s problems. Of course, it presented a whole new range of difficulties, like what to do with the mermaid, and what to do with the box. 

There were some inconsistencies, sure. For one, the boy didn’t match the physical description they’d gotten. The stable boy had had long hair, been well dressed and well mannered. He’d been liked well enough by his fellows and warranted a hint of respect form his seniors.  
This boy was a drudge, with the unkempt hair, the rags for clothes, the bruises and stunted behavior. Right then, Steve realized that the only characteristics they knew about the boy were things which a skilled actor could change in about half an hour. His face, his height and build, were all hazy. The mermaid and the boy could very well be the same person. 

Steve rubbed his temples. He hadn’t known mermaids could travel on land; he’d thought they had to be close to water all the time, but who really knew what mermaids were capable of. 

Still, he had to make sure. He couldn’t just raise the alarm, haul the boy of and clasp him in irons. He seemed so young at times, but the memory of what he had seen in the bathroom in the cellar still haunted him. Last night he had dreamt about it. Those sparkling legs, like liquid gold, sparkling, and the eyes, so dark in contrast, the smooth skin and the round …  
Steve suddenly jumped out of his chair, startling everybody in the room.  
Bucky paused in his task of tying ribbons in Sam’s hair, casting him a questioning glance, one which Sam echoed. Steve just shook his head and headed outside.  
He couldn’t keep thinking about the boy like that. Better to focus on what he had to do.  
He had a duty to fulfill.


	5. Thank god we managed to keep this internal monolouge quiet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ouch. Tony gets beat up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The pace is being kept up. Yay me! And yay you for reading this far! Also sorry for violence.

Carefully, Tony took a step forward in the darkness. His questioning fingers found what he was looking for. He smiled. Finally.  
He quickly counted the sheets and then folded them up to tuck them away. Now he had to get out of here, this was the riskiest part of his plan, but he needed the parchment. He couldn’t get caught now, with his fingers in the cookie jar.  
Slowly, he turned around. He had wrapped is feet in cloth to make sure he would make no sounds while walking. He lifted his foot, carefully lowered it and … Crash!  
Tony tumbled. Something spun away under his foot and before he could throw out his hands the floor hit him and knocked the air out of his lungs.  
“Oof.” Was all he said, he knew better to make any sound, but not that it did him any good, suddenly something fell over with a clatter loud enough to reach the gods. At least it sounded that way to Tony. Before he could react a match flared and Tony looked up at the enraged face of the landlord.  
Fuck. 

As a hand gripped his neck in an iron grip and dragged him of the floor, he got an eyeful of the room and realized what had happened. The landlord, maybe to celebrate the unusually large amount of guests, had snuck away from his wife to nurse a bottle in the scrub he called office. Apparently he’d been nursing the bottle till it was empty, and then fallen asleep. Tony had stepped on the bottle on the floor, which had overturned a stool with a bucket on it, in turn waking the landlord.  
He really had no luck. 

The world swung around in front of his eyes as the landlord turned and dragged him out into the kitchen, bellowing at the top of his lungs.  
He really didn’t have a large vocabulary, even with curses, Tony noted. 

He was suddenly pushed down and hit the flagstones with a silent ‘umph’, getting his breath knocked out for the second time in five minutes. Soon other lights approached, carried by the mistress and the servants. The master seemed to have woken most of the household. Somebody put a foot on his back. Tony, who did not appreciate that, started listening. It was best to find out what they thought he’d done so he’d know what to say. 

“… every thieving rat that sneaks through our gates …”  
“… took him in, out of the goodness of our hearts, and look how he repays us! He must be punished ...”  
“… I bet he was after the money, you keep the chest in your office don’t you? He must have seen you open it and gotten greedy …”  
“… ‘ll wring his neck and feed him to the dogs, I will! The no-good, low-born, filthy …” 

Tony stopped listening. He’d understood the gist of it, and while he’d gotten used to hearing abuse he’d rather shut it out. They’d thought he wanted to steal. The logical conclusion, and it saved him from trying to come up with an explanation, but it also gave them a reason to do some very nasty things to him. While the Duke of Leis had suspended corporeal punishment several years ago, in some remote villages, more traditional punishments were still in practice. Tony felt quite attached to his hands. He’d like them to remain attached to him. 

Suddenly the boot was taken of his back. He could turn his head, and saw Louise pleading his case with the master. He looked more and more agitated, and suddenly he flung her aside with one sweep of his arm. She crashed into the wall.  
This annoyed Tony. He liked Louise. He stood up so suddenly he saw little black spots in front of his eyes, but sure did the landlord seem surprised. His wife squeaked and the impromptu audience at the door took a collective step back. Tony opened his mouth.  
“Hey! She had nothing to do with thi-“  
Bam! A giant fist connected with his stomach and he doubled over. This whole having-no-air-in-his-lungs thing was really getting tiresome. Something hit him over the side of his head and he spun with the force of it. The wife had found her rolling pin and aided her husband. The absurdity of the situation sunk in, and he almost started laughing, if only he hadn’t been in so much pain. The master took this as a sign that he could go lose on Tony, so he did.  
Amongst the blows, Tony could make out the cheers from the wife, the protests from some of servants and the murmurs from the few guests that had made their way down. Approving or disapproving, he couldn’t tell. That was almost comforting, trying to make out what the guests thought, gave him something to think about …  
Suddenly his legs gave way and he sort of sunk to the floor. Funny that. It’s like he didn’t have any bones no more. Sharp spikes of pain bloomed like red fire, but there was a sort of coolness in his mind, like it wasn’t happening to him. 

He wondered why he had remained standing for so long, and if it was going to stop now that he was down.  
Bam! ‘Oomph.’ Apparently not. Now that he was down, he was being enthusiastically kicked. From behind as well. The wife seemed to have joined in. Or maybe someone else. He couldn’t really see that well any more. He tasted rust in his mouth. Bleeding then. He hoped he had bit his tounge. That would be so much easier and preferable to the alternatives. Was it ever going to stop?  
There seemed to be a lot of noise around him, maybe there was a scuffle, maybe people were trying to stop this, it sounded like a sufficient number of people involved to call it a brawl, but he didn’t feel like he was being hit by more than three people, tops. 

 

“Stop!”  
The voice rang out with authority. Tony twisted his neck slightly, wincing at the sting, squinting at the figure in the doorway. The blond bucket-head had entered the kitchen, showing people aside to do so. Tony blinked.  
‘Trust my luck to land me in even more trouble … ‘ was his last thought before the dark that had been lurking around the edges of his vision rushed up to meet him.


	6. Righteous angry outburst nr. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally! Steve to the rescue. Go get 'em, Cap!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter was awful. I will try to never ever again, ever, end my chapters with Tony lying bleeding on the floor.  
> This chapter is slightly better. Slightly.

Steve was angry. No, Bucky corrected himself. Steve was furious. Bucky thought about going over to him, but then decided he was a decent human being and did not deserve to die that way. He nonchalantly sauntered over to a private. 

“Hey tuts. Feel like doing your ol’ pal here a favour?” Bucky beamed at him.  
The man, clearly having been warned against Bucky, glanced suspiciously at him. Before he could open his mouth to protest, Bucky had slung his arms over his shoulder to prevent an escape and towed him towards the door behind which the captain and his charge currently resided. 

“Now, to protect the mental and physical health of your troupe, which what with you being a decent man an’ all, you’d wanna do, you’re going to stay outside this door and prevent anyone from going in. If the captain calls for something, you fetch it for him. Otherwise, you stay out of that room, got it?”  
The short dark-haired man peered at him, but something about the set of Bucky’s jaw made him reconsider his protest. He nodded slightly.  
“Good man. Now remember this, you are a soldier, and I am your superior, and if you ever neglect to salute me again I shall ensure you end up on stable duty at every fucking inn we stay at till we get back to the garrison.”  
“Yes Sir!” the man practically jumped to attention with a text book salute.  
Bucky grinned and stalked off. 

… 

Steve was angry. Steve was furious. He was furious at the landlord, at himself, at the stupid insipid people of the inn, at the boy for being dumb.  
He was also, quite strangely, hurting. With every whimper the boy had emitted, he had winced in sympathy. That was strange. 

It was better now though. Steve remembered how cold he had been for the first two seconds, when he saw the boy, saw Tony, lying on the floor. And then the realization had sunk in and he had seen the landlord kicking him, kicking Tony. The coldness had been replaced by something so hot Steve’s world turned red.  
It had taken every inch if self-control he had not to shoot the wretched man there and then, but he would have fallen over on Tony, Tony who was already hurting. Tony had been the priority.  
He remembered shouting, and he remembered Sam behind him, jumping past him, pushing back the landlord and the people behind him. Bucky, muttering something in his ear, calming him.  
He remembered trying to move towards the landlord, and having his arms restrained. He remembered being pulled back, hands on his shoulders, preventing him from wringing the landlord’s neck like he should have.  
And then Sam had put the landlord down and some men had shooed away the guests and the servants had confined their mistress to her chamber, and Bucky had lifted the boy, and there had been blood running down his chin. 

Steve had been pulled away from the landlord, but nothing in the world would have been able to pull him away from Tony. So he had followed Bucky, heading away from the kitchen with Tony in his arms. 

They’d gone to the captain’s private quarters. This part Steve remembered in vivid detail, though he’d gladly forget every last bit of it.  
Sam had suddenly been there, pushing away pillows and Bucky put Tony on the cot. There had been others in the room, Gabe had been holding on to his shoulders, Dum Dum had been running back and forth with water and logs for the fire.  
Jim had showed up with the field doctor, a relatively young man named Harris. He had cursed quite a lot when he saw Tony. Privately, Steve had agreed. 

He had reluctantly been pushed down onto a chair by Gabe, something which he became painfully grateful for, since his legs had given out on him. Harris had started to undress the boy, removing first his broad belt, some sheets of paper, a couple of leather bags containing nothing but salt, and his shirt.  
When he had moved to remove Tony’s breeches though, Harris had suddenly found his hand held in an iron grip. He had looked up into Steve’s face and swallowed. 

“You don’t touch that.” Steve had said, in his memory quite politely.  
Judging to the reaction of his men some of his feelings must have slipped into his voice, because suddenly there had been people between him and the doctor, whom had seemed eternally grateful for it.  
Sam had disappeared, but Bucky had immediately been at his side, talking in his ear and nudging him back to his chair.  
“… it’s okay Steve, we can leave those on, right now his upper half is more important anyway, the doctor only needs to stop the bleeding and bind those ribs, it’s fine Steve, you’re in control, nothing bad is gonna happen to the boy, we’re all protecting him, nothing bad will happen …” 

Harris had seemed to want to object, but something in Steve’s face must have discouraged him. He simply turned back to Tony and started working. The two most painful hours of Steve’s life had followed.  
Tony had still been unconscious, something which Steve had been thankful for, but it was still bad. When Harris had announced the boy needed stitches and two people had to help hold him down to stop him from bucking, Steve had dug his fingernails so deep in his palms he started bleeding.  
When the worst was over and Harris fearfully announced he needed to look at the boys legs, Steve had blatantly refused. As long as no bones were broken he could tend to the boy himself, he had said.  
Harris had given him a doubtful look, but Bucky who knew his friend had shooed the rest of the soldiers out as quick as possible. 

Steve had learnt a lot about mermaids in the following hour. For example, when their legs started bleeding, the surrounding scales absorbed some of the blood and gained a lovely new reddish colour. And any bruise seemed to be amplified by the scales, like looking at colours through a kaleidoscope.  
Tony’s golden shimmering legs, normally covered in drops of sunlight, now sported the most intoxicating rainbow colours. It also looked incredibly painful. 

…

Steve leant back in his chair and took inventory of the boy’s injuries. A broken arm, three cracked ribs, a twisted ankle, some loose teeth, a gash in his side which had needed five stitches, around twenty smaller cuts and countless scrapes and bruises.  
Tony was going to be in quite a lot of pain when he woke up.  
Steve intended to make sure the innkeeper would be in a lot of pain.  
At least he knew Sam had the situation under control. After Sam had removed the landlord from the kitchen, he had locked him up in the smallest darkest room they had found and spent the best part of the night explaining to the landlord every possible way in which he had been wrong and could be punished for said wrongdoings.  
It had been quite and extensive list. 

 

Steve suddenly sagged, tired from the long night. He was feeling sorry, sorry for himself but above all sorry for Tony who had taken the innkeepers abuse for more than half a month. He realized he had stopped thinking of the boy as a mermaid and potential threat. Now he was simply Tony, in Steve’s mind.  
There was no longer any question of turning him over to the local authorities. If Steve’s world had almost broken from seeing him beat up, how could he possibly handle seeing him whipped or locked away?  
Steve looked down on the sleeping boy. Even if he couldn’t change what had happened, he silently swore that he would not allow anyone else to ever hurt Tony. 

In the excitement, Steve had forgotten all about the box.


	7. A Mysterious Pair of Pants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nooooooo. Tony wakes up. And he's in pain. Poor baby!

Tony ached. Just breathing was an agony. Even when he had lost control in that current and crashed into that cliff it hadn’t been quite so bad. That was one of the advantages of being underwater. No need to breathe. 

Well. Nothing for it. Tony was a master at feeling sorry for himself, but that ability was overshadowed by his skill at concealing his feelings and pulling through when in difficulties.  
He opened his eyes. Ouch. Shouldn’t have done that. His head started thundering like he had a storm behind his eyes. Not pleasant. 

Applying his usual skill at ignoring obvious ways in which an idea seemed bad and doing it anyway, tony sat up.  
Well. Now there was lightning as well. He sat as still as possible for a couple of minutes, until the flashes of pain had subsided. Okay. He was okay. This wasn’t so bad. He’d had worse. He couldn’t exactly remember when but his life would have to have been pretty pathetic if the worst thing that ever happened to him was getting banged around by an innkeeper.  
Let’s see, what was the worst thing that ever happened to him? Oh, that’s gotta have been when the queen die…  
Tony paled when the memories hit him. The feelings suddenly washed down on him and he couldn’t move, from the fear and the loneliness. The screaming, and the desperation he had felt when it happened, how he had taken days and days to move again, to move on. 

Tony’s eyes welled up with tears and he shook his head. The pain drew him back into the present, and suddenly he was glad that he was hurting all over. He tried to focus on the pain, tried to flex his muscles and see where it was worst.  
His arm was tied up in a big white bandage. Probably broken then. His sides ached when he breathed, but his ribs were probably not broken. Tony winced and amended that to probably not very broken. Maybe a little broken.  
He had nothing on his torso, but his legs were thankfully still covered in breeches. 

Uh oh. Not the same breeches Tony had been wearing when he tried to sneak out. Somebody had taken of his breeches. Somebody had seen his legs. Somebody knew he was a merman!  
He almost started hyperventilating, but then calmed down. Never a good idea to start panicking. He could panic after he was safe. That’s how he usually did it after all. Go through it all and then collapse afterwards when he’d realize how close he’d been to death. He’d done it several times. He could do it again. 

But it had never been like this before. Never before had an outsider found out he was a merman. Ingrained in Tonys very being was the knowledge that if an outsider found out, they killed you. If someone saw your legs, you were dead. You’d be hunted down, chased like a dog. They’d keep you away from the safety of the sea until you finally collapsed and then kill you by drying you like a squid, in the heat, in the sun. Drying up. Dying in an oven.  
His entire childhood he had heard it, and when he’d come of age and been allowed outside he had seen it. If one of their people were condemned to die, they left him naked where the outsiders could see him. He’d die for sure, then. 

Tony’s sentence was clear. He’d die. He would. He’d been seen.  
But something was of. He looked around the room. Ah. Of course. It wasn’t a cell. In fact, it looked like he still was at the inn. In one of the nicer rooms. And his wounds had been tended to. That did not fit in with Tonys idea of what would happen to a person revealed to be a mermaid.  
His broken arm had in fact been reset, with the, he checked the stabilizers, yes, with the expensive kind of supports. Hm. Okay. 

Maybe there was another mermaid in disguise here. Or maybe the doctor was blind or something. Well, he’d have to learn more about what had happened when he passed out before he could escape. Maybe there was something he could turn to his advantage. 

He decided to try and venture outside the room, despite his wounds, when he felt it.  
He turned his head sharply. The wooden chest in the corner was calling to him. It was locked with a pretty impressive padlock, but Tony had practice getting around such inconveniences. After a couple of minutes, he got it open.  
Tony sat silently and stared for a couple of seconds. Then he folded aside the blanket and picked it up. He felt angry. This shouldn’t have happened. He’d hidden it! He’d stuffed it down with the salt so it wouldn’t miss him, he’d buried it before he fled the caravan, so that it’d be safe!  
This was, if possible, the last straw for Tony. After a long, long week of getting pushed around, beat up, feeling scared and lonely and now finding this, he couldn’t help it. 

He flopped down on the stone floor, hugged the box to his chest and cried. 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sigh. I really suck at this, don't I? Well, crying might not be quite as bad as bleeding. Poor Tony.  
> I'll post the next chapter as soon as possible, so hang on untill then.


	8. Harris.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff! Maybe! And Tony is finally comforted. Nice going, Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! I was beginning to fear Tony would be left alone to cry. Thank goodness for Steve.  
> Three chapters in a day! Imagine that. A great big warm thanks to CatChan, without whose steady interest these wouldn't get written half as fast, and for whom this last chapter is dedicated to.

Field Doctor Harris was not having a good day. It seemed like the last week, no one in his vicinity had even had a hint of a good day. Currently he was engaged in a heated argument with the stupid stubborn captain he’d been assigned to. Man pops up out of nowhere and doesn’t even follow proper protocol!  
Then he starts giving out these ridiculous orders, and while Harris was secretly glad they’d saved the boy from that brute of a man, he was not glad about having to compromise his treatment of him. 

“Captain, I am sure you’ve been adequately trained in first aid, most officers are, but if there are any nasty surprises under those breeches I need to know now while we still might do something about it. Leaving part of a patient unexamined simply because of your, your, your PREFERENCES is unacceptable!” 

Steve bore his tirade stoically. He’d taken the doctors abuse all the way from the courtyard, yet the stubborn man would not budge! It was so frustrating. 

Harris was so caught up in his righteousness that when he entered the room it took a moment for him to register that the boy was not on the cot. Harris had already made it into the middle of the room when he realized, and stopped abruptly.  
It was impossible. The boy shouldn’t be able to move about yet!  
Suddenly the captain behind swiveled around and crossed the room in two paces. Harris looked over, shocked. The boy was on the floor, next to the big wooden chest, cradling something in his arms and crying. The captain crouched down next to him. 

“Hey? Can you hear me?” When he didn’t get an answer he resolutely picked up the boy in his arms, and went over to the bed and sat down, still holding the boy in his lap.  
Harris was surprised. The man was clearly stronger then he looked. Harris wouldn’t have been able to pick up an almost fully-grown man and carry him across a room so easily. He suddenly felt the need to look away. The two men had first met each other four days or so ago, and couldn’t possibly have exchanged more than two sentences. Yet when they sat there, huddled together, you’d think they were lovers reunited after twenty years.  
Harris silently left the room. 

… 

This was nice. Steve thought about it for a bit. Of course, it would be a whole lot better if Tony wasn’t hurt or crying or upset. It would also be better if Steve didn’t know now that Tony was connected to the damn box. It was pretty much impossible to deny it, now that the boy was hugging the thing. It would also be nice to know how he was going to handle the situation, convince his men and superiors, and figure out if Tony was a flesh-eating mermaid.  
But for the moment, all the inconveniences and questions were unimportant, cause Tony was curled up and sobbing in his lap. Though it was very cozy, Steve did not want Tony to be sad. Tony can’t be sad.  
Steve was at a loss. His usual day to day activities didn’t normally involve holding crying people. He hesitantly reached up and stroked Tonys head. He let his hand run down Tonys back and let the calming motion continue until Tony started breathing evenly. Eventually Steve just let his hand rest against Tony’s neck, holding him in place, anchored. 

Steve liked this. He liked the warmth, the feeling of slow movement as Tony breathed. He liked holding Tony, keeping him safe. He liked it even better when Tony slowly relaxed and leaned into him, relying on him. 

And then Tony reached up and grabbed Steve’s shirt. Steve wasn’t quite sure what he had done to deserve such a happiness, but maybe he had saved a bunch of orphaned kittens while preventing a toxic magic leak or something in a previous life, because gosh! Steve sat very very still, trying to prolong the moment for as much as possible.  
He felt Tony shivering, so without thinking he simply wrapped his arms around him and hugged as tight as he could. 

…


	9. First meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First meeting! Well first official meeting. Steve, at least, is polite and well-mannered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! If you're still here, hang on! It will get better. And you will meet a lot more people! (So please dont abandon me now.)

Being hugged was nice. It was strange, even though this stupid bucket-head was doing things he really should be offended over, things which would warrant punches for other men, it somehow felt … safe. 

But it couldn’t continue. He couldn’t let this fool him. There was no way he could be safe. Mermen were never safe. You could flee down to the very bottom of the sea, but if they were truly after you, they could come after you even there.  
Hadn’t they gotten a shock the last century, when that infernal diver bell had been invented? And then there had been the diving suits. Soon humanity would be able to walk all the corners of the earth.  
He had to remember that, remember that this big lump of a man who smelled like, like pinecones and straw wasn’t safe, he would hurt him just like everyone else. 

Despite himself, Tony couldn’t let go. He even buried his face in the nook of the man’s neck. His breathing slowed, and softly but surely, Tony fell asleep. 

… 

Tony woke feeling oddly cramped, aching. His arm and, ouch, his foot as well as his ribs were still giving him more trouble than he could ignore without effort, but it was as if he had been curled up or something, and …  
Tony froze. Someone was hugging him. Like a shot he twisted out of the grip, falling out of the bed in the process. He hit the floor with his shoulder and scrambled to right himself.  
He turned around, snarling, to face the bed. Then suddenly the memories hit him and he stopped.  
The man on the bed made a face like Tony was a kitten that had scratched him while he was being fed, but then quickly put on a neutral expression. He held up his hands in a placating manner. 

“You, you actually held me all night?!” Tony couldn’t help it; the question came out in a high pitched voice.  
The man seemed surprised.  
“What, that’s your first question?”  
“Well, it’s, it’s just so …” Tony realized his usual wit seemed to have abandoned him, and decided to make an effort. He straightened up and smoothed his voice. “Well hun, when I wake up with bruises next to a good-looking man, it’s not usually after a night of hugging.”  
This was true, Tony realized. Well, not the part with the bruises, but the part about the man being good-looking. He was tall, well built and had clearly been working the muscles nature had given him till perfection. His chin was prominent but not cleft, and his hair was the colour the sun made on the sand two hours before it set. Tony thought outsiders would call it corn-blond.  
Pleasant as the view was, this might not be the time to admire it. 

“Hello.”  
Tony blinked. This was not as usual. “What?!”  
The man shrugged. “Well, usually that’s how things goes, isn’t it? When you meet someone, you say hello.”  
Tony blinked. “Hello.”  
The man grinned. “Hi. I’m Steve. Steve Rogers. How d’ you do?”  
Steve. Fair enough. Now bucket-head had a name. Names were useful, but sometimes they ended up cumbersome. If something had a name, you could get attached to it. Best not to go there.  
“Alright. Steve. What in all seven hells is going on?” 

“Well, ignoring the fact that I still don’t know your name, I’d like to reassure you. There is no present or imminent danger. There is no one in the vicinity who would like to or would be able to harm you. The man who inflicted those injuries on you has been locked up, so, um, please, could you please put that down?”  
Tony looked at his hand.  
“Oh. Yeah.” In the roll he’d managed to grab the heavy candlestick of the nightstand.  
He slowly put down what he instinctually knew would be referred to as a blunt instrument if he used it, on the floor.  
“There. Not there any longer. And what do you mean he’s locked up?” 

Steve moved to the side of the cot, as if he was making place for Tony. Tony decided that the warmth of Steve’s presence, so warm and still, almost kind, simply by being, and oops, yeah, best not to pursue that thought any further.  
He crawled up on the chest and positioned himself there, cross-legged.  
Steve sighed but continued with the implied patience of a saint. “I mean he’s being confined in his quarters until we will be able to escort him under guard to the closest fort for judgment of assault and abuse of a minor, mistreatments of his employees, fraud, bungling of business, unrightfully turning away guests, refusal to follow current laws, ...”  
Tony stared. Steve continued with the charges, for quite a while, until he realized that Tony seemed almost scared.  
“What?”  
“Well, if he’s being charged with all that, what am I being charged with?”  
Steve blanched. “Nothing! I mean- I mean, you are not guilty of anything, thus you are not being charged with anything. If possible, I’d like to get the landlord to reimburse you for your time here and for the injuries you received.”  
“I don’t believe you. I mean, what about the theft?”  
“There obviously wasn’t any. Not even an attempt. If there had been, you’d have been carrying coins or bills, or even deeds. All you had was empty parchment and salt. Now, I know salt is a valuable commodity, some soldiers get paid in salt, the poor bastards, but if you were looking to run away with riches, salt would not be your first choice.”  
Steve glanced at Tony, who seemed to have calmed down. Good. He continued.  
“In short, there is nothing, except maybe the time of day, to suggest anything about your behavior was suspicious. You are, in every way, innocent.” 

Tony breathed out. “Alright. Thanks. I appreciate it. And, well … thanks for … for savi- for stopping him.”  
Steve nodded. “Now, having cleared that up, I’d like to address another matter. Since you are clearly the last of the missing members from the great spring march” Steve ignored how Tony seemed to choke on air “I’d like to ask you a few questions regarding that box.”  
Steve nodded at the box, which had fallen of the bed and rolled away into a corner. “That was uncovered after the raid, and after examining it, we believe it to contain something of considerable value-“  
“Yeah you could say that” Tony muttered.  
“-so we decided it best to return it to its rightful owner. I assume that it belongs to you.” The sentence came out like a statement, but Tony understood it was a question.  
“Yeah, it’s mine. Um, thanks I guess.” The words were out before he realized he should have denied them. But he’d been surprised.  
Steve grinned like he’d just passed a test he’d thought he’d fail. He kept his tone neutral. “We are happy to be of service. If there is anything else we can assist you with, we’d gladly comply.” 

Tony glared suspiciously at him. “How’d you find it anyway?” trying to find out what Steve knew was impossible though, trying to read that big happy smile was like trying to detect malice in the face of a golden retriever. There was nothing there.  
“A horse knocked over a stump. We believe it must have become entangled in the roots.” 

Tony resisted screaming. First the attack, then the landlord, and now this. Just how much bad luck could a guy have? He shook it of though. The universe was not fair, he’d learnt that from an early age.  
Steve stood up. “Well, with that matter settled, I will leave you be. We ride early tomorrow morning.”  
This was sufficient to rouse Tony. “Wait what? What WE? What in the world would make you think I’d be coming with you? And where the hell would you wanna take me?” 

Steve’s face was impassive. “Excuse me? All members of the troupe have to be brought to the fort and registered. We will set you on your way shortly after that. Unless you have some objection to presenting yourself at the fort?”  
The question hung in the air with a hook on the end.  
“No! Well, no, of course not. I just thought I could go about my business from here. The fort would be quite a detour. It would seem unnecessary.”  
Steve looked stern. “With horses, we’ll make good way, and going alone through the mountains is dangerous. So you’ll be coming with us. Unless you have some other objection?” 

Tony swallowed. Again, a hook. Tony looked at the man though, and hastily decided that a question with a hook at the end of it was better than one with a noose.  
“No, no problem. There is no problem. I will gladly accept your escort.” Now a mischievous glint entered his eye. “Though, with my injuries, we couldn’t be expected to make very good time.” Tony was nothing if not resilient. He'd always be able to escape later. Maybe even with a horse. Horses and mermaids were not compatible, but he could trade it for salt. 

Steve, already halfway through the door as soon as the matter was settled, turned to look at him. “I wouldn’t worry about that.” Steve was grinning too, in a way that strangely unbalanced Tony. “You just let me take care of that.” 

“Tony.”  
“What?” The man turned around a second time.  
“Tony. I’m Tony. That’s my name.” he said it reluctantly, but if they were going to travel together Steve needed to know.  
“Alright. Thank you Tony.” The smile he got in return was dazzling. 

And then Steve was gone, leaving Tony alone with his thoughts. 

…


	10. Wobble wobble wobble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony, meet Harris. This can either be the start of a beautiful friendship or something which will result in a horrible murder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keeping up the pace! Yay!

The door opened again, just a few minutes after Steve had left. Tony looked up. A young man with blonde hair walked in. He went straight over to the cot and plopped down a big leather bag next to it.  
“So how are we feeling today?”  
Tony couldn’t help it, he laughed.  
“Well, that answers my question.” The man was smiling.  
“A doctor huh? How many of actually say that line in earnest?” Tony was still grinning.  
“None. No one who actually uses that line in earnest could possibly be a competent doctor. But in all seriousness, could you please comply so I get done with my examination as soon as possible?”  
“No problem. Tony turned to face him. There was simply something so relaxing about the man. He felt at home with him. “What’s your name, bud?”  
The man winced at the endearing term. “Harris, Sir. Now please lift your arms.”  
“Harris, huh? Alright Harris, what happened after I was knocked out? And how bad are my injuries?”  
“That is what I am endeavoring to find out Sir. Please take five deep breaths.” 

Tony sighed but obeyed. It had been a long time since anyone called him Sir.  
“Thank you, Sir. Now please try to keep still. This will be a tad uncomfortable.” Tony jumped.  
“There. Well done Sir. After the captain interrupted the scuffle in the kitchen, you were carried here by one of his subordinates, after which I saw to you. You were unconscious for the remainder of the night and the majority of the day. Currently we are two hours until sunset. I believe the regiment will be departing tomorrow morning.  
How is your arm?” 

Tony looked down on it. “Wrapped up. I mean, you ought to know. I bet it was you who wrapped it up too. With linen and mud and sticks and whatnot. It’s not often part of your arm gets giftwrapped.”  
Tony smiled his widest most disarming, innocent smile at Harris.  
Harris scoffed. 

“What? Don’t you think I’m adorable? I think I’m adorable.”  
“Very good Sir, but I’d ask you not to touch or use the arm for a minimum of three weeks. Also try not to get the cast wet.” Harris put his tools away and snapped his briefcase shut. “Are you going to behave, Sir?”  
“Of course I will. I am a great big bunch of behavior. And a very good one at that. I will not fiddle with the cast, I will not use the arm.”  
“And what about getting the cast wet?” Harris raised his eyebrows. Tony was not listening. He was busy stretching, trying to figure out the new limits of his mobility.  
Harris watched with a put upon air. When Tony made a move to stand up, he put his hand on Tonys shoulder. “Remember you twisted your ankle. Don’t try to put your whole weight on it yet. Give it a week, before you try to run.” 

Tony nodded dutifully. Then he quickly pushed the hand aside and skipped over the length of the room. Harris accepted that Tony was not a man to listen to advice. Or doctor’s orders. 

“Hey, by the way? Except for my ankle, are my legs in a bad way?” the question was casual, but Harris could sense some of the underlying tension.  
He snorted. “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t seen them.” Tony frowned.  
“No really. Our captain, the man who was with you earlier, deemed it best that we not touch your legs. He apparently treated them himself. He does have elementary medical knowledge, but I would still like, with your permission of course, to look at them later.”  
“No.”  
“I beg your pardon?”  
“No, um, I just meant, you’d better follow your captain’s orders.”  
Harris was silent for a while.  
“Very well, Sir. I will not enquire further. However, should you ever feel secure enough to confide in me, I will gladly listen to your reasons.”  
Tony was stunned. This man didn’t press questions? He thought Tony’s decision was more important than his own curiosity? That was worth remembering.  
“In the meantime, please look over your legs yourself. I trust you’ve tended to cuts and bruises before?”  
Tony nodded.  
“Good. If there is any oozing, any strange smells or anything that keeps on bleeding beyond the normal, I expect you to tell me. Is that understood?”  
Tony nodded again.  
“Very good, Sir. I will leave you. If you have any private articles stashed away, I suggest you go get them now. You have about half an hour before the Captain sends someone to check on you.”  
“What? Why in the world would someone come check on me?” Tony was genuinely curious.  
“Let’s just say, Sir, that Captain has a remarkable eye for people. Someone will most likely sleep in your room tonight, and I doubt you will be left on your own very much from now on.”  
He was out the door before Tony could start yelling. 

“Bastard!” Tony flung a pillow at the door. “He was laughing at me! I know he was. And that damn captain suspects that I’m gonna try to escape! The nerve of him!”  
Well, Tony was gonna bugger off the first opportunity he got, but that didn’t mean he deserved to be treated like some common criminal.  
“Curses.” 

He sighed, and using a poker as a temporary cane, he hobbled out the door to collect what he’d need for his inevitable journey.  
Really, all he needed to do was fetch his shoes from the barn. It took a while, because he had to circumnavigate all the big puddles in the yard. It was a humiliating process, especially since two soldier, leaned against a wall, observed his process like it contained the secret of the meaning of life. Every time he nearly went over or uttered some particularly colourful curse, they’d nod sagely.  
Once the yard had been crossed and returned from. Tony set his course on the kitchen. Louise was there, and she gave him a quick hug before helping refill his bags of salt. Before he left she stuck a small packet of food in his hand.  
“In case you get hungry.” She’d whispered, and then fled.  
Tony looked down. He wasn’t used to kindness. 

Well back in his room, five minutes before a big man with a bristling mustache and a bowler hat walked in to take up station on the floor, Tony had still not made any headway on the question rolling around in his head.  
He’d thought about it all through his tour, but there simply was no reasonable answer.  
If the captain had treated his legs, he knew Tony was a merman. If Steve knew Tony was a merman, why hadn’t he said something about it?!  
Worried and exhausted, despite his roommates echoing snores, Tony finally fell asleep.


	11. Who's a Good Boy? I'm Not Sure Yet, But I Sure Hope Someone Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet Sam. Who's awesome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter. The next one will be twice as long as usual.

After he’d left Tony, Steve went in search of his two sergeants, Sam and Bucky. He found one of them.  
“Evening Cap! How’s your charge?” Sam waved at him from across the dining hall. The other guests turned to stare, but Steve ignored them. He was used to being stared at.  
“Better. He’s woken up, and then I’ll send Dum Dum in there with some food for him later. He seems to have calmed down.” 

Sam turned back to his bowl. “You know, it’s a damn shame to leave that boy here. He’ll just end up in trouble again. This time though, he might not be saved. People here have long memories.”  
Steve nodded as he sat down next to him.  
“Exactly. Which is why we’re taking him with us.”  
He ignored Sam’s sudden coughing fit.  
“What?! Are you craz- … Captain, I get you feel bad for the boy, I really do, but in case you’ve forgotten it, we’ve got a mysterious ticking box on our hands!” 

“Sam.”  
“Oh no! No, not again. Not this time. You’re not gonna give me the puppy-dog look and I won’t give in. Not about this. Cap, Steve, no matter what you think, he’s gonna be in more danger the closer he is to the box! You have to admit that he’ll be safer here, even amongst these people.”  
“Sam, he’s got something to do with the box.” 

The sergeant went quiet.  
“Sam, he’s got something to do with the box so I can’t leave him here, quite except from the fact that he’d be in danger here. But I can’t take him to the fort, not yet. Not before I know more. So I’m gonna pretend we’re still hunting for clues to the box. He’ll be with us, and I’ll figure something out.  
But if I take him to the fort they’re gonna lock him up until they’re sure he’s not a threat.”  
“But you think he might be.” The sergeant gave his superior officer a long look. “And you don’t want him locked up. And you’re asking me, ME, to go along with this. To protect that damn infatuation of yours.”  
Steve hung his head, his ears red. 

“Alright.”  
Steve’s head shot up.  
“Alright, I’ll do it. I’ll, WE’ll send the fort messengers from every other town, but if we get orders we’ll pretend they’re not reaching us. Not the first time I’ve pretended ignorance in front of a superior.”  
“Sam, I-“  
“No, don’t mention it. You wouldn’t ask me to do it if it’s only an infatuation. You think there’s more to the boy, don’t you?”  
Steve looked at the floor.  
“And you won’t tell me. Fine. I trust you, Captain. Just buy us drinks when all this is over.”  
Sam looked at his downcast expression.  
“I’ve told you before, Cap, don’t ever try to play poker. You’re horrible at lying.” 

Sam stood up. “I’ll go tell Bucky. He goes along with whatever you say, so he won’t object. He’ll order whiskey, though.”  
“Thank you, Sam!”  
The sergeant raised his hand in acknowledgement and started to walk away. Steve called out once more though.  
“Hey Sergeant! Your uniform is not worn according to regulations.”  
“You’ve told me before Cap. But I got approval for all my alterations. They make me harder to see.” Sam was grinning. So was Steve.  
“Yes, but I did not realize that painting big red hearts on the heels of your boots was considered inconspicuous.” 

Sam’s smile faded. He spun around, trying to see the heels, and the abruptly turned around, running out of the hall at full speed. 

“BUCKY! WHEN I CATCH YOU I’LL WRING YOUR NECK YOU BACKSTABBING SON OF A-“ 

His yell was cut short when the big wooden door swung shut after him.  
Steve was still grinning when he went to eat his dinner.


	12. Dugan, A blanket burrito, and a Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Bucky meet. They're one soul in two bodies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, rant warning. 
> 
> I'd like to caution you guys before you read on.  
> This is not set in our world. Soon you will hear of strange places, such as The Continent, and Menecoast. Sorry. I suck at making up names, but so far, you can think of the Continent as a big obnoxious country in the middle of a continent, fringed by small unimportant countries with access to the sea. Menecoast is one of these. You'll hear them mentioned in future chapters. 
> 
> In Menecoast you speak menemia. The soldiers are currently in a southern mountain range in The Continent. That's probably all you need to know for now. 
> 
> Oh, and I don't like swearing. So I'll make up my own swearwords as I go along. If you see a word that seems out of place, it's probably a swear.  
> E.g. it knelled = it sucked.
> 
> Thanks for your patience.

”Rise and shine, lad! Time to go!” 

Tony pulled his cover over his ears. “But’s dark ‘tside. Sun’s no’ up.” 

“Just cause the sun’s still asleep, don’t mean we have to be! Now hurry up, departure in thirty minutes!” 

Somehow, Tony mused in his bleary tousled state, the bowler-hatted man had a voice that seemed to attach an exclamation mark to every sentence that came out his mouth. It was as if he found the world was easier to talk to when he could order it around. 

“Jus’ five mo’ minutes.” He mumbled. 

Suddenly a large hand reached down, grabbed his neck an unceremoniously dragged him out of the bed and dropped him on the floor.  
Tony decided he did not like cold flagstones in the morning, grabbed his blanket, and rolling himself up in it, wiggled in under the bed.  
Oh god, the dumb man just kept prattling on and on and on. Would he shut up already?! 

“… name’s Timothy Dugan, people calls me Dum Dum though. Even Captain, and he’s the first of the officers to do so. He’s a decent man our ca- Hey! Where did you go!” 

Tony heard the man ramble around the room for a while, until he disappeared out the door, shouting at what must have been the top of his lungs.  
Good. Tony shut his eyes again. 

… 

A cold blast of air made Tony shiver. He slowly opened his eyes. Somebody had opened the door and was standing still on the threshold, outlined against the rising sun. 

“Ah. I figured as much.” The door closed and the feet started walking towards the table where Tony had put his things. There were a few soft sounds, a small scuffling of papers.  
The feet walked over to the bed. They were literally only a few hands away from Tony. He could have reached out and touched them. Tony, still half-asleep wondered if there was some reason he should not attempt this. 

Suddenly he felt an absence of pressure above him. He turned his head and blinked, looking straight into the open, friendly and totally transparent face of Steve. Captain Steve. That sounded wrong. He had to have some other name, right? Wait, why could he see Steve? He was supposed to be under the bed! 

 

Tony, alarmed, made his first real effort to wake up.  
There was a soft chuckle from up above. 

“You know, I haven’t seen Dum Dum that upset since Jim almost stepped on a landmine. He was sure you had run away from under his nose. He spent quite some time looking for you, you know. That was not nice.” 

 

Tony, finally regaining some of his mental capacity, blinked again. 

“Hey, you, you lifted the bed. With one arm. Like, you’re holding up the bed, the solid wooden bed, in the air, with one arm. You lifted it. Why. That’s, why? Why lift the bed?” 

Steve, not letting this faze him, reached down with his other, currently bed-free arm, and pulled Tony up. Without giving him time to untangle himself from the blanket, he simply tossed Tony over one shoulder and started walking. 

 

“Hey. Hey! This is, is unacceptable. I am a respected member of society. I can walk on my own. Put me down. Or I’ll sulk.”  
Steve did not care in the least. 

“I really mean it! You’re being stubborn!” 

“And you have delayed our departure with almost half an hour. Be grateful this is all the repercussions there will be.” 

“Wait, wait a minute. We’re leaving? Now?! I’m undressed!” 

“You have your breeches to keep you covered, and a blanket to keep you warm.” 

”Those aren’t clothes! I need clothes!” Tony was screaming. 

“The garments you had here were hardly worthy of being used to tie together beanpoles. We will get you clothes when we stop for the night in the next town. In the meantime, you will have to make do. Today you won’t be moving about much anyway.” 

 

Tony thought for a while. 

“My stuff! I need my stuff! You can’t just leave without my personal belongings! They’re mine!” 

“Oh.” Steve slowed down a little. “You mean those things on the wooden table next to the fireplace?” 

“Yes! Now put me down so I can go get them!” 

“Those were your only belongings?” 

“Yes, but just let me-“ 

Tony felt it. Steve had quickened his pace again. He’d lost. 

“No need to worry.” Tony could hear the smugness in Steve’s voice. “I packed it all up in this satchel before I picked you up.”  
Tony glanced down. The view of the captain’s backside was, indeed, obscured by a leather bag. Pity. Both on not being put down and on having his otherwise unparalleled view blocked. 

Tony calmed down.  
“You don’t think you could at least, I don’t know, carry me in a more dignified manner? I feel like a sack of potatoes.” 

Steve snorted. They soon reached the gate, where the rest of the soldiers, including one almost fuming Dum Dum, were gathered and mounted.  
They set of. 

… 

“C’mon, don’t tell me it’s actually because I carried you.” 

Sullen silence met this statement. 

“No, it really is, isn’t it? You said you would sulk if I didn’t put you down, and now you are.” 

Steve nudged on his horse. 

“Or maybe you can’t forgive me for the indignity of having to ride with me? That part is definitely not my fault. Doctors order. You can’t ride with one arm.” 

The sullen silence stretched on. 

“Or maybe you don’t like being rolled up in the blanket. That might be it. But I can’t stop and unroll you now, can I? Be reasonable. That would take far too much time, and the  
men would have to stop too, and it would be a mess.” 

If silence could have a physical presence, this one would have been a lead bar, weighing down the air. 

“Consider all the unfortunate people in the world. So many of them are in so much worse positions than you, you know. I mean, you’re upright and not dying. So that’s good right? I mean, just because you happen to be rolled up in a blanket and unable to keep your balance, you don’t have to sulk like a child. The fact that I have to hold you so you don’t fall of the horse should in no way impact the value of the day.” 

 

Tony turned his head away.  
Steve sighed, but settled for that for the moment. He’d never expected Tony to actually be so stubborn. He considered actually halting to untangle Tony, but then thought about the looks Bucky would give him, so he decided not to. Besides, having Tony sitting in front of him on the horse, in between his arms, was nice. Yeah. 

… 

When they stopped to eat around noon, Tony had fallen asleep again. Steve had a grip on the reins with one hand, the other he used to support Tony, who was leaning quite heavily against him. Steve waited until Bucky skipped up to grab Tony, before he tried to dismount. He knew from first-hand experience that waking up by falling of a horse is not a particularly pleasant experience. 

When Steve had finished tending to his horse, he overlooked their little camp. There was a core group consisting of him, his two sergeants and five men who’d been with him for quite some time. There were also a gaggle of newer recruits, forced onto him by the commander of the fort. Though not technically outranking the new ones, his soldiers commanded them with ease, showing them what had to be done for the meal. Steve hardly had to raise a finger any more.  
As soon as he had seen that there were guards posted, the horses had been tended to and the cooking had started, he made his way to the middle of the clearing, where Bucky had hauled Tony. 

Harris was already there, checking on his charge. 

“The non-mobility, but above that the sleep, is good for him. I think his body recognizes this as its chance to recharge, no matter what he thinks of it. Of course, being bumped around on a horse is not beneficial to any kind of healing.”  
The doctor shot Steve a sharp look. 

“That he can sleep through it, and through this, is proof that his body is trying to rebuild itself. Wake him up when the food is ready and have him eat. He needs the nourishment.”  
Harris had unwrapped Tony to the point that he could redo the supporting bandages on his arm. Steve nodded that he understood. 

 

“Bucky, could you look after him for me? You heard the man, feed him and wrap him up before we leave again. I’d like him to sleep as much as possible, and if he can move  
around he’ll probably fight it.” 

 

Bucky grinned. “As long as it gets me out of cooking, I am as happy as a sun soaked snake.”  
Steve shook his head and headed off to help get the water boiling. 

“C’mon Cap!” Bucky shouted at his retreating back. “You know snakes are happiest when they’re in the sun!” 

Harris reminded Bucky of his presence with a little snort. “I doubt it was your choice of metaphor which had the good captain retreating.”  
He gestured with his foot. “Look. The boy is waking up.” 

Bucky sighed inwardly at the impossibility of having fun around Steve, and turned back to Tony. 

… 

“So what you’re saying is, you’d politely ask to decline?” 

“No. What I’m saying is, after you stuffed that stinking porridge in my mouth and held my nose shut till I swallowed, I’d most civilly like to stick my foot up your ass.” 

“So … No more blanket?” 

“No. No more blanket. Blanket bye bye.” 

“But blanket will miss you.” 

“Blanket can go stick itself up your ass.” 

 

Tony and Bucky circled each other.  
Even to Tony it was painfully obvious that Bucky was just indulging him, as he could barely take normal steps with his damn ankle.  
Bucky lunged. Tony toppled over in the opposite direction. They ended up on the ground in two separate ungraceful heaps. Bucky made it up first. 

“You sure you don’t want to renew your acquaintance with blanket? There’s always a straw mat who’d be happy to be your friend.”  
Tony rolled sideways. Almost onto his broken arm. Bucky managed to grab him. Tony kicked. 

“Ouch.” 

“I most sincerely plead you to lay off, batface.” 

“Such a sincere plea shall … uff, have to … be debated for the duration of the night. In the meantime, please remain as you are until further, oomph, notice.” 

 

“Getting Rusty Bucky!” Someone called in passing. 

 

“I’m only trying to mimick your last battle strategy, Gallaver.” Bucky threw back. 

Tony started crawling away. Bucky chased after him, taken care not to touch his arm. Tony took every opportunity he could to make use of his injuries. 

“Stop. Fucking. Putting. Your. Arm. Under. My. Feet.” Bucky panted out. He fell on his face as he made some complicated dance move to avoid stepping on Tonys arm for the third time. 

In the end Bucky gave up and simply sat on him. 

 

“Look, I understand you don’t like me, or anyone else for that matter. I bet you came out of your mother’s womb cursing the world. But for now, you’re gonna have to ride with one of us. There are not enough horses for you to ride on your own, quite apart from the fact that you wouldn’t be able to. And since you’re half naked, it’s just good sense to be wrapped up.” 

“You wrap me up like a cigar. I’m not flammable.” 

Bucky snorted at this. “You’re certainly capable of setting things aflame. No, what I mean is, we might be able to reach an agreement.”  
Tony shifted. 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah. See, if you promise not to make too much trouble, and let me wrap you up, I promise to leave your good arm free and you can choose who you want to ride with.”  
Tony considered this. 

“And if I continue to cause trouble?” 

“Then I’ll wrap you up with the blanket Dingo there once peed on, and then tie you to the underside of my horse.”  
Tony considered this further. 

“Alright.” 

“Alright what?” 

“Alright, I won’t cause any further trouble.” 

Bucky climbed of him and grinned. “You know, I have the feeling this could be the start of a long and wonderful friendship.” 

“Asshole.” Tony kicked his legs out from underneath him. 

Bucky grinned up at him. “See? Exactly what I was talking about.” 

…


	13. "Lovers" Spat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ah, friendship. One of the wonders of the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Willhelm Shookspar. This world's version of William Shakespeare. His dick jokes will be alot more obvious to us than our own version's dirty humor. Try saying his titles out loud, and you might hear which plays they've been inspired by. 
> 
> If you find this chapter confusing, don't feel bad. Steve felt quite confused himself.

Steve was first alerted by the sound of raised voices. He spurred his horse to get to the scene as quickly as possible. He arrived to find Bucky and Tony rolling in the dirt, hissing like cats and apparently fighting like dogs. They had caused the entre train behind them to come to a halt. Steve was nonplussed. 

When he had last seen them, they had been on excellent terms. 

 

After he had been left alone with Tony, Bucky had somehow managed to feed him and then get him up on his horse without having to restrain him. They’d even been talking to each other, as if they actually got along. As soon as the troop had cleaned up after the break, they had continued forward. With an injured person amongst them it was best to make it to the next village before nightfall. 

For the majority of the afternoon, everything had been quiet from Bucky and Tony. Steve had assumed that meant they’d gotten along fine. And now this. 

Suppressing a deep sigh, Steve dismounted. 

“Alright, break them up.” 

At the command of their captain, three of the new recruits, as Steve still thought of them, only Bucky had managed to learn all their names, jumped forward to separate the fighters. 

It took a while. 

 

Once Bucky had seen his Captains face and Harris had ascertained that Tony hadn’t ripped open his stitches, Steve posed the question. 

“What the hells is this all about?” 

They spoke at exactly the same time. 

 

“Well, you see, there was this slight …” 

“Now, before you get upset …” 

They paused, looked at each other and flashed almost identical conspiratory grins. Steve had an ominous premonition. 

 

“See, Captain,” 

“and we say this with the utmost respect,” 

“there was this slight, tiny teeny,”

“eeny weeny, well, disagreement.” 

“Nothing major, nothing to get upset about, but Tony here didn’t react with enthusiasm when I mentioned Willhelm Shookspar.” 

“Where after Bucky here assumed I hadn’t read any of his works,” 

“which he had,” 

“so he started quoting fucking Rock Hard the Turd at me,” 

“quite extensively, since it’s my favourite,” 

“so I in turn proceeded to inform my friend Bucky here of my opinions on Willhelm Shookspar.” 

“They’re not favourable.” 

“As he said. So, he was a bit displeased with my views,” 

“or rather, the way in which you uttered them,” 

“so he decided to inform me of the worth of any being who could not appreciate the undead poet,” 

“and that worth is not high, by the way,” 

“whereupon I in turn expressed the opinion that the undead poet would be a lot better off if he simply went and buried himself somewhere,” 

“and that is of course Tonys right to do, since we live in a country of free speech.” 

“Bucky here, has of course as well the right to express his opinion about what I could do with my opinion, and after that, weeelllllll……” 

“the situation got increasingly vocal.” 

“Yes.” 

“There you have it.” 

 

Two red, guiltless faces stared up at him. Steve wondered if it would feel like kicking a puppy if he put them on different horses. It had been a long time since he’d see two people become friends that fast. 

It was quite astonishing how well they both pulled of the innocent-child-who’s-definitely-almost-an-angel look. Steve gave up. 

“Alright gentlemen. Since there seems to have been no real harm done here, I suppose we must continue forward. However, should I hear even one more squeak from either of you, I will dock you one week’s pay, Bucky as well as put you on a month’s latrine duty once we get back to camp, and Tony. You’ll be travelling hanging over the rump of my horse like a sack of potatoes until You feel seasick just from the smell of a horse. Is that clear?” 

“Aye aye Captain!” 

“Yes Dear!” 

Bucky ripped of a salute and Tony batted his eyelashes. As the helped each other to their feet, they could hear him muttering. 

“All the world to fight about and they choose clacked literature.” 

The rest of the journey went exceptionally well. 

 

…


	14. Ah names.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Big REveal!!!!1!!! wHo is JANrvis?
> 
> No seriously. Sorry for stringing you along, but here we go. You're welcome. Sorry for tricking you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A second chapter today. Because I feel like spoiling you. And yesterday I got more than two comments. So have a reward for that. I love you, darling readers.

Tony was riding with Harris. Since it’d be both unwise and cruel to let one horse carry double the load day after day, even though Tony’s weight hardly amounted to much, he’d been riding with different soldiers every day, often switching when they stopped for lunch. 

He got on tolerably well with both Gabe and Jacques, being able to speak menemia and many other languages. Dum Dum was quite large and still mad about the whole fake escape, so they’d barely spent one morning in each other’s company. It had mostly been spent under sullen silence. By the end of though, Steve had the impression they’d reached some kind of peace. 

Falsworth, so called because he insisted anyone who’s use his first names had to day both of them without shortening them down, seemed indifferent about the boy, until Tony mentioned something about pistons which got the man interested. 

Tony like riding with Jim though, as they taught each other different languages. The people who had to ride next to them began putting balls of moss and sap in their ears. They complained to Steve that in between them, Jim and Tony could talk the legs of a donkey. It was held that it was a veritable miracle that it didn’t work on horses. 

 

Anything was better than Tony riding with Bucky though. While Sam just ignored him, Bucky remained silent though all his chatter, but seemed to take everything he talked about to heart. Unfortunately, Tony mostly talked about how interesting it was that you could make sap explode by heating it to a certain level, or how strange it was that Falsworth seemed reluctant to let anyone touch his torso almost as if he was ticklish. 

 

While Bucky was a sergeant and thus outranked everyone except Sam and Steve, it was decided that if he pulled a prank on anyone, they could retaliate without fear of consequences.  
Steve thanked the heavens that they’d made that rule, otherwise he was sure that the mental health of his soldiers would have been compromised. 

As it was, many a night he’d wake up as someone furiously chased Bucky through the darkness because he’d found wet leaves in the bottom of his sleeping bag, or events of similar nature. 

Steve liked riding with Tony. He made sure to do it as often as possible. Tony had, in fact, stopped protesting and started napping against Steve whenever they rode together. 

Everyone was happier with a sleeping Tony. That was the reason Steve made sure Tony rode with him so often. Yeah. Nothing weird about that. He was simply considering the well being of his men. It had nothing at all to do with how cold it seemed without Tony’s body leaned, softly snoring, against his chest. 

… 

However, today it was Harris’ turn to ride with Tony. So he did. He was after all in the military. If he couldn’t obey orders he’d never have remained there. The boy was being an awful nuisance though, to say the least. He just wouldn’t sit still no matter what. 

“Sir, please consider how your movements affect our stability. There are quite a few rare herbs packed behind you. Should they become dislodged I would be most upset.” 

Tony finally opened his mouth. 

“Alright, but once we stop can you do something about my arm? It’s itching like crazy. There must be some dirt or something under the bandage.” 

“Hardly Sir. The itching you feel is normal, and signifies either that your arm has reached a certain point in the healing or that your muscles are longing to be used.” 

“Godsdammit.” Tony hung his head. 

“However, that does not mean that there is nothing to be done about it. Try to blow air in between the bandage and your skin.”  
Tony did so. 

“Oh. Thanks. That’s actually … that’s actually better.”  
Harris nodded sagely. 

“Was that why you, why you redid the wrap this morning? Because you thought it would itch soon?”  
Harris nodded again. 

“Oh. Okay. Um, thanks.” 

Tony sat silently for a while. 

“You’re actually a pretty decent guy, aren’t you Harris?” 

“I couldn’t possible comment, Sir.” 

Tony grinned. “’Course not.” 

More silence. Harris appreciated it while it lasted. 

“Hey, soooooo. Harris. It’s a continental name.” 

“Yes Sir.” 

“But you don’t look continental.” 

“No Sir.” 

“It’s strange, I really don’t think you’re originally from the continent.” 

“Indeed Sir.” 

“Yet your accent is perfect.” 

“So I hear Sir.” 

 

Tony contemplated this exchange. Harris enjoyed the silence. 

“Okay, can you please just tell me what’s up with your name? I mean, nowadays lots of people are travelling and settling in different places, but if you’re in the army you have to use your real name, and legally changing your name costs a lot of money. Are you adopted? Did your family move here fourteen generations ago and earn a cavefull of money? Like, I can figure out most of the folks here but you’re a mystery through and through. You only behave like a doctor whenever someone is injured, but you’re never a soldier.” 

“So Sir decided to start with the most obvious problem; my name.” 

“Well, yes. What’s the deal with that?” 

Harris decided he might as well tell the youth, it would do no harm and he couldn’t help but feel protective of Tony. Someone with all those self-destructive tendencies needed a bit of protection.  
If this was all it took to get the boy to open up then it was worth it. 

 

“It started as a mispronunciation.” 

“A what?” 

“A mispronunciation. My great grandmother immigrated to the continent several year ago. Unfortunately she had a slight speech impediment, nothing that impacted her everyday life, but when she tried to say her name, people misheard her.” 

“Oh. Okay. And what was her name.” 

“d’Arvis, Sir. Jacquelle d’Arvis.” 

“Huh. That’s a Serlainean name.” 

“Yes Sir. A tradition too. When we are back home our family uses our original name. J. d’Arvis has been used in the village of Arvis as contract brokers for several hundred years.” 

“So, your family has been like judges and merchants and landlords and stuff for generations. But why the J?” 

“Tradition again, Sir. We usually use first names beginning with a J. My father was Jack ‘dArvis, out of deference to the country he was born in. I am Jean d’Arvis, after my great great grandfather.” 

“Your grandmother, when she came here, she lost the “de”? Cause that’s what it seems like to me. It’s hard to mangle J. d’Arvis into Harris, but J. Arvis could easily become Harris.” 

“Your observational skills astound me, Sir.” 

“J. Arvis is a mouthful though. I’ll just call you Jarvis.” 

“I’d appreciate of you could refrain from doing so, Sir. Harris is sufficient.” 

“Naw, don’t be like that. Harris is so boring. Jarvis it is.” 

 

Apparently satisfied, Tony squirmed for a better position amongst the many packages the doctor had strapped to his horse, and appeared to start meditating. Harris sighed. 

At least the boy seemed to like him. Harris had taken quite a shine to Tony. He had to admit, being called Jarvis did remind him a bit of home. He’d accept the nickname. 

… 

The following night they camped outside. After the tents were set up, dinner was eaten and the guard shifts had been confirmed, Harris managed to locate Tony and drag him aside. 

“Jarvis? What’s up?” 

“Forgive my impudence Sir, but there is a matter I’d like to discuss with you.” 

“Well, shoot.” 

“Thank you Sir. Last night I couldn’t help but notice your absence around the campfire.”  
Harris grabbed Tony’s arm. 

“And the reason that I noticed your absence is that I had been looking for it. This past week I have seen you sneaking of into the woods with your luggage, and then returning half an hour later.”  
He felt Tony stiffen under his grip. Tony still tried to make light of the situation. 

“Well, Jarv, you know how it is, thirty men together in the woods, not a pretty lady in sight, who can blame a guy for trying to get some time to rejuvenate himself?” 

“Please do not make light of this Sir. I know this is not simply high spirits or a bad case of constipation. I do no-“  
Tony tried to twist out of his grip and make a break for it, but Harris quickly gripped his other arm. 

“As I was saying, I DO NOT CARE.” Harris uttered each word clearly, it was important that this would sink in. 

“I do not need to know what you do. I do not need to know if this has something to do with your breeches and how both you and the captain don’t want anyone to see what’s under them. Tony, I only need to know; do you require medical assistance?” 

 

The words hung in the air. Tony blinked. 

“I mean, if you do need care but are too scared to ask for it, please know that I am capable of full medical discretion and would never-“  
Tony burst out laughing. 

This time Harris blinked. The laugh continued for quite some time. When Tony seemed capable of breathing normally again, he sucked in air and, to Harris’ immense surprise, patted him on the shoulder. 

“Oh boy, you sure can crack a guy up, huh Jarv? But no, I don’t need anything like that. I have my secret under full control, and my legs are healing as they should. Promise. Whew! The look on your face was awful. Like you were considering putting a knife through my throat even though you’ve never killed a man or something.” 

Harris shrugged.  
“I am not comfortable with direct confrontations.” 

Tony laid both his hands on Harris’ shoulders, looked him in the eyes and said, most sincerely  
“I believe you.”  
Then the ass burst out laughing again. 

Harris shrugged again, uncomfortable.  
“If you are not in need of my services, then I will retreat for the night. Sleep well, Sir.” 

Tony watched him walk away as fast as his legs could carry him.  
“Hey!” he called “You know, I think I might actually like you!” 

 

Tony had to think about this though. The man had actually been watching him. And his habit was no longer a secret, even if only one person knew. Before he could do anything, that damn captain would find out and demand an explanation. 

Tony frowned. Steve. Hum. Steve was almost a bigger mystery than Jarvis was. Well, when you looked at him he seemed pretty straightforward, some lower lordling’s son sent off to serve queen and country, turned out to be a good fighter and a better strategician, let his morals get in the way of some mission and got put on this squad as a result. That part Tony had no trouble with. The thing he couldn’t figure out was, what had the man seen of his legs? 

Every time he’d tried to breach the topic he’d either been interrupted or lost his nerve. The damn man pretended like there wasn’t this big block that hung between them every time they talked. Tony couldn’t breathe sometimes, because he knew, with absolute stone cold certainty, that Steve was going to reveal his secret. It knelled. 

 

Oh well. He’d been here long enough anyway. In the warm company of the soldiers, Tony had gotten further faster than he’d have been able to on his own. It was time to say goodbye. 

Now for the tricky part of figuring out how to do so without anyone noticing him leaving. Well. Next night they’d get to a slightly larger village than the ones they’d usually gone through. Tony could use that. All he needed was one good distraction. 

If there was one thing Tony was good at, apart from sarcasm and bullshitting his way through certain death, it was causing distractions. 

…


	15. The Brawl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony throws his weight around. Literally. Things are about to get interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Skogsrå is a creature of old swedish folktales. She lives in the woods and looks like the most beautiful woman, however, if you see her back it is hollow like a log. She lures men into the forrest with her beauty and they are never heard from again. Some claim that she also has power over predators, and she decides which of the tame creatures shall be killed and eaten by wolves, bears, and wolverines every year.  
> She's not exactly associated with the devil, but she flees from the word of god.  
> I like her a lot, so I included her. Sorry.

Tony leaned back in his chair. It had been a long six days. 

After the first catastrophically abhorrent day when he’d been rolled up like a cigar things had gotten better. He’d gotten proper clothes, nice ones, and a spare shirt to change into. And he’d gotten an extra fire-maker, and stuffed away some food. Tony was also a lot closer to his destination than he had been at the start. 

But it was time to leave. 

Jarvis had gotten too close. Steve was getting closer every day. Bucky, lovable scamp, as he tried to get people to describe him as, might discover Tony’s secret by accident. Sam was sharp. Dum Dum, Jim, Jacques, Falsworth and Gabe were all great guys, but Tony couldn’t decide how he thought they’d react to his secret. 

So he had to go. 

Tony stood up, planted a kiss on the cheek of the man next to him, turned around in his chair and punched the man on his other side. 

 

… 

 

Steve was not happy. Steve had been not happy for the majority of the evening. 

Now Bucky had to deal with him. Steve could see that Bucky was not happy about his superiors unhappiness. Or grumpiness, that Bucky had called it. 

But it really wasn’t Steve’s fault. It had all been going swimmingly. Tony had started to get along with the men, they were making good ground, and Steve felt that day by day he could get one inch closer to understanding the box. 

This day had started out like any other. Tony had been just as awful that morning as he’d been every morning. He’d complained and whenched as much as usual, came with the same sharp retorts as usual, behaved in the same way Steve had come to expect. Then they had arrived at the inn. Tony had started flirting like he was a temptress whose rent was due in the morning. 

Steve’s mood had plunged pretty fast. 

 

After about an hour of watching Tony rub himself against some stinking drunk’s side, Bucky had resolutely grabbed his arm and dragged him outside. 

 

“Look, Cap, if you really are a masochist then I won’t deny you your pleasures, but you’ve never given any indication of any such inclinations before, so I’m just gonna come out and say it: Why do you keep on torturing yourself with watching THAT?” 

He didn’t have to specify what THAT was. Steve understood him perfectly. 

 

“Look, it’s just, I can’t, he’s just, he’s just a boy. If he does something dangerous, someone should be keeping an eye on him. It’s just that.” 

Steve sank down and squatted on his haunches. He rubbed his face in his hands. 

“So, you decided that that task should go to you. You, who seems like a kicked puppy every time he smiled at that guy.” 

Steve just buried his face in his hands. Bucky crouched down next to him. 

“Hey Steve? You know the kid. Do you really think that he would suddenly do something like whisper sweet nothings in the ear of a stinking boozer.”  
It wasn’t even a question.  
Bucky gave Steve’s shoulder a gentle shake. 

“C’mon big guy. The kid’s playing at something. I for one would like to see what it is.” 

Steve stood up. “You’re right Buck. Thanks. Okay, I’m fine. Let’s go back.” 

They went indoors just in time to see Tony punch the village smith in the face. 

 

… 

 

The smith had, up until that moment, had a pleasant evening, did not appreciate the punch. He stood up. Tony threw himself, squealing in a very uncharacteristic manner, in the lap of the guy he’d been flirting with. 

The drunk, who had had some very excellent beer, suddenly found that his newly acquired sweetheart was being menaced by the bastard of a smith that had given him a brittle horse shoe last year. That was not acceptable. In his drunken haze he stood up and took a swing at the smith. 

He missed. The smith, who had been looking for nothing more than an apology, decided he couldn’t stand taking such a weak punch without retaliation, especially from the bastard who had had the gall to complain about his horse shoes last year. He punched back. 

The drunk had friends. They decided that a drunken farmer against a buzzed smith was not fair, and went to aid their comrade. This turned the numbers in the drunk’s favor. The smith’s cousins, who were in town to sell a horse, could not abide by that. They joined in. 

 

At that point in time, Steve’s eyes had seen Tony tumble of the drunken farmers lap and end up on the floor. Steve’s feet, without consulting Steve’s brain, decided they couldn’t let Tony be trampled and jumped into the fray as well. The rest of Steve followed; why fight your own feet? 

Bucky, who had seen his commander’s mood and expected something of the sort from the first punch, tried to grab his arm. He didn’t succeed. 

While he was trying to pull back his friend, someone spilled some beer on Bucky’s head. This was not acceptable. Bucky decide that morals and army code could wait, revenge was more important. He’d already been docked a month’s pay anyway. He punched the offender.  
The man tried to kick him. Bucky thought: In for a penny, in for a pound, and tackled the man to the floor.  
Some new recruits joined in. The innkeeper hid all the valuable liquors in the kitchen. 

Somebody smashed the window. This allowed the noise from the brawl to spread through the village, beckoning many more participants whose definition of a night of fun was a hangover so bad they couldn’t stand up and a black eye. 

At this point in time, the phrase “Chaos ensued” is pretty accurate. 

 

… 

 

Sergeant Sam Wilson was not a happy man. He was not even a moderately pleased man. He was probably as far from happy as is possible to get on the wide spectrum of emotions available to humans. 

Last night he had been awakened in the middle of the night as private Eddards had barged into his tent, yelling that the Captain was beating up everyone and the second sergeant was busy in a drinking contest and had resisted any attempt at regaining control. The whole village was fighting and the stables were on fire and trolls had come up from under the bridge and attacked the school and the Skogsrå had seduced the priest and …  
At this point Sam had interrupted the soldier. He’d believe a lot about Bucky, but Sam doubted the part about the trolls and the Skogsrå. He couldn’t smell any smoke either, so the part about the fire was probably not true.  
However, unfortunately, the part about the brawl was. As was the part about Bucky drinking. 

Sam had emptied a barrel of water over his commander, taken command over the local authorities, which really just was two constables who used to play cards in the lock-up, said lock-up often doubling as a pigpen, and locked up most of the brawlers on the empty wine cellars to sober up.  
He’d sent the ones sober enough home, and doled out orders about disciplinary actions to any soldier who had taken part in the fighting. Not too strict though, as they had seen their own commander jump in though.  
Sam didn’t blame Steve. The rest of the world, including Steve, seemed oblivious, but Sam recognized love when he saw it. 

Then he dealt with Bucky. Sam found him in the back room, slurring out the words to an old drinking song, leaned against a passed out man. The room around him was full of men snoring gently, as if they’d drunk themselves into oblivion. Bucky was the only one still standing. He was still hanging on to a tankard from which a liquid was spilling onto the floor.  
Sam frowned. He sniffed the air.  
“Applejack? You mixed applejack in the beer?”  
Bucky was in no state to answer, but Sam continued anyway.  
“Really, you are probably the most irresponsible man I’ve ever met. You were the one who was supposed to see that the Captain behaved. I mean, he’s the best damn commander I’ve ever had, but I swear the man can’t tell green from red when he’s in love.”  
Sam hoisted Bucky over his shoulders. Bucky’s head rolled and he lost his grip on the tankard.  
“And where do I find you? Drunk as a skunk on beer cut with applejack. Classy.”  
“no, ‘s no’ my faul’”  
“What was that?” Sam stopped. Was Bucky still conscious?  
“he’s decen’ man, offered me new drink aftr aye beat ‘im, decent guy, reall’y …”  
Buckys words trailed of. After two seconds he gave up a soft snore.  
Sam snorted.  
“You are gonna have the greatest headache since Atlas, my friend, and I will not pity you in the morning.” 

… 

Morning had arrived. Or at least Bucky thought it might be morning. It could just as well be that the gods had decided to take a walk down on earth and was using his head as an anvil.  
Slowly, Bucky tried feeling if he still had all his limbs. He was afraid some of them might have fallen of last night. One, two, three …  
He breathed out. They all seemed to be there. He breathed in again and wished someone would please remove the revolting smell so he’d feel less like throwing up. 

Someone came in and stood beside him.  
“Please … would you kindly … remove that smell? It’s … making me … nauseous.”  
It took Bucky a while to get the whole sentence out, as he had to pause to catch his breath.  
“You mean the smell of fresh mountain air?”  
Bucky fell back down on his pillow. “Yeah, that’d be it. Take it away, it’s making me sick.” 

Sam looked at him. Bucky was a great soldier. He’s the first man you want on your side in a fight. He’s loyal to a fault and knowledgeable in several fields he shouldn’t be involved in, but which had nevertheless turned out useful. In short, Bucky was a good man and more than worth the trouble it took to take care of his impulsiveness.  
Looking at him like this though, resembling something that had been dug up last week, it was hard to remember that.  
Sam decided to take drastic measures. 

“Steve is blaming himself.”  
Bucky’s head shot up.  
“He thinks it’s his fault for losing control last night, that he should have handled it better. He’s assigned himself latrine duty.”  
Bucky fumbled to get a grip on things.  
“Hang on, Sam, Hang on, that’s not right, it was just a brawl, the town have them all the time, and no one was seriously hurt, so it should be-“  
“Tony is gone.” 

The colour drained from Bucky’s face.  
“Fuck.” He whispered before he fell out of bed and scrambled towards the tent opening and threw up.  
Sam looked after him, echoing his sentiment.  
“Fuck indeed.” 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear. Oh dear. This is not a pleasing development.


	16. The Chase is on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Steve. Losing Tony throws him off balance. Luckily he's amongst friends. Otherwise he'd probably still be stuck at the bottom of that cesspit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! More chapters!

Steve was depressed. They should have left early that morning, but without Tony he couldn’t see a point to it. So currently, Steve was emptying the cesspits.  
It was good solid work. The smell was a bit disturbing. Steve had had worse though. Haha. Hadn’t he just. But it anchored him. Took his mind of other matters. Dung was simple. You could rely on dung.  
Dung didn’t mysteriously disappear on you. It didn’t break your heart. It didn’t leave behind a big pile of mysteries. It didn’t have golden shimmering legs.  
Steve liked dung. 

He kept on shoveling. Let’s see, one two three, spades, covered half a bucket, seven buckets needed to fill a wheelbarrow, he’d done nine wheelbarrows already, he was one third done, so if he shoveled 42, no better make it 45, more spades, times four, better make it five, he’d be halfway done …  
Steve was engaging in the complex mathematical equations usually employed by humans to keep the universe neat and bite-sized and menial tasks manageable. 

He noticed when Bucky found him though. It would have been hard to miss Bucky. For one, he seemed to have to stop every five steps to crouch down and take three audibly loud breaths. Also, he was cursing. Loudly.  
He had Sam in tow. 

“Steve? Steve! Captain!”  
Steve straightened up.  
“Good morning Sergeant Barnes, Sergeant Wilson.”  
“What good morning? Tony is gone! Why are we still here?!”  
Sam took a hold of Bucky’s shoulder.  
“Calm down Sergeant. Bucky, we can’t do anything now.”  
Steve nodded. “That is accurate. He chose quite a way to escape. After the general commotion, none of us were in a shape to pursue him. We didn’t even notice that he was gone. When we finally did, half the squad was still sobering up, and the other half nursing bruises and split lips.  
I’ve sent out scouts to look for traces of which way he went. He left probably immediately after he disappeared from the inn. He took food, supplies, and all his personal belongings. He didn’t take a horse.  
There really is nothing we could have done.”  
Bucky saw the grip Steve had on the shovel, and realized that although Steve might say the words, he did not believe them.  
Steve never thought he couldn’t have done more. 

Bucky felt Sam’s almost imperceptible squeeze and understood. It wasn’t possible to fix the Captains personality flaws in two minutes, and two minutes was the most they’d have. Better not to get into a discussion and instead move forward.  
“So what do we do now?” Sam sounded tired.  
Bucky and Sam both looked at Steve like he held all the answers in the world.  
Steve thought about it. 

 

They had a few options actually. If they got a hold of Tony’s tracks, they could trace him, track him down, and Steve could demand some answers. In the back of his head, Steve felt that it might not quite go that way, but it would be so satisfying to just get to Tony and hold him. Shake him and berate him for his stupidity and his recklessness.  
Well, since that wasn’t gonna happen anytime soon, Steve shook those thoughts out of his head.  
In case they couldn’t get a hold of Tony’s tracks, they had two options. Either, they could tell top brass they’d found the owner, that’d it had been some sorcerer or something, and get back to the fort to get on with their lives.  
Or they could just blindly throw themselves into the chase. Hunt after every lead and every clue, to get a hint of Tony. Any mention of a promiscuous servant boy or a golden mermaid, anything, they could search for Tony on their own. 

That all depended on whether they could find a trace of him though. Nevertheless, they should be prepared to move out before noon.  
“Please assemble those still relatively untouched by yesterday to get things organized. I want to speak with the mayor of this town so that there won’t be any repercussions for the garrison as a result of this incident. Everybody should be able to ride by noon. Any loose ends are to be …”  
Steve came alive, slightly, while barking out orders. Sam and Bucky, relieved, made sure they’d be followed to the letter. 

The camp started to move. 

… 

 

“Captain!”  
Eddards fell face first into the circle.  
“Well?” Steve saw the tension in Bucky’s shoulders, knew he had to be just as bad.  
“The scouts couldn’t find a trace of him, Sir! Though, judging from the general direction we’ve been heading, and the current landscape, they’ve believe he might be headed south, Sir!”  
“Thank you Eddards. You may leave.”  
“Yes, Sir!” 

When the young man had gone, Steve sagged. He had a new decision to take. He really couldn’t be selfish anymore. He had already asked far too much of his men. He couldn’t imagine the rap Sam would have to take if things went bad. Both he and Bucky would be okay, probably, but the reason Sam had been stuck with them from the beginning was his ability to take orders and follow rules.  
If it was found out that Sam was no longer doing the one thing that had kept him useful, well, Steve would like not to think about it. 

Maybe it was for the best. Maybe Tony really did know what he was doing. He’d been trying to get away from Steve from the beginning. Now he could get back to whatever mysterious mermaid-mission he’d been on.  
It ached in Steve, but he really couldn’t continue chasing after Tony. He couldn’t do that to his friends.  
He tried to take a breath, but his body shook and he couldn’t get any air in. Steve felt like he was drowning. He couldn’t say it, he just had to open his mouth and give the order to send the message to the fort. But he couldn’t say it. He took long shuddering breaths but nothing came out of his mouth. He couldn’t taste the air.  
He couldn’t abandon Tony.  
There was a buzzing in his ears, his head ached. He felt like the sky was falling down n him, he couldn’t stand up on his own. He couldn’t see any light. 

“Captain? Awaiting orders to move out, Sir.”  
Steve’s head shot up.  
“Wh-what?” his voice shook.  
“Captain? We need the order to move out as soon as possible if we’re to have any chance of finding him.”  
Steve was stunned.  
“Captain?”  
Steve sat down, his legs gave out on him. His handswere shaking and he laughed.  
Bucky and Sam gave him two identical worried looks.  
“Captain? Are you alright?” 

“I thought, I thought I couldn’t ask you to do that for me. I thought-“  
“Steve.”  
“I was gonna tell you we’d give up on him. We’d lie to the brass and let him run off.” 

Suddenly Bucky was hugging him. Steve froze. Bucky was usually physical with his affection, but not while on duty.  
“Steve. We’d never do that. We’d never ever ask you to do that.”  
Steve patted Bucky’s shoulder awkwardly.  
“What made you think we had to give up? What could possibly make you think we shouldn’t go after him?” Sam was on the ground as well.  
“Well, I thought I couldn’t make you do that. I couldn’t be selfish like that, not any more. If my insubordination was discovered, I’d well, I’d be alright, and Bucky is made of rubber, so he’s usually alright no matter how he bounces, but head be alone, and the guys have only just been following me, they don’t even know that were not doing what we should. And you Sam. They put you with me as a monitor, to make sure I’d behave. You’re their arm here, you follow their orders. If they find out you haven’t done that, if you loose your value, then you’d –“  
Sam put a hand on his shoulder.  
“Steve, you are a brilliant man, but sometimes I feel like punching you.”  
Bucky nodded vigorously, and Steve remembered he was still being hugged. He tried to stand up, but Bucky pulled him back down, pulled Sam closer too, into a little huddle with Steve in the middle.  
“No don’t move jackass. You don’t seriously buy into that crap?”  
“Bucky’s right Steve. What you just said is bullshit. First of all, Bucky is not lonely because he chose to follow you. He chose to follow you because you never compromise.” Sam seemed very comfortable speaking on Bucky’s behalf, but Steve didn’t comment. “Secondly, do you really think that nay of those men out there would have acted any differently if they’d been in the know? Most of them have figured out that something’s fishy already, and they don’t complain a bit. If we did inform them, they’d simply whench about being forced to sit still for half an hour to listen to useless chatter. They don’t care, they trust.  
Thirdly, you have the gall to worry about me. You think my ability to follow orders is my only value? You think I haven’t gone rouge before?  
Steve. We’ve known each other for such a long time that we could measure it in years, and you still think the brass believes I’m just your monitor?” 

Steve’s eyes cheeks were wet, astounded he realized he was crying.  
“Thank you.” His voice broke. “Really, thank you, guys.”  
Sam dragged them to their feet.  
“Orders, captain?”  
“Those sober enough to move, have them dissemble the camp. Those not in condition to travel, have them strapped to their saddles and their horses tethered to others, capable of riding. The mayor of the town shall be pacified within fifteen minutes. Bucky, that goes to you. No one can wheedle like you can, not even when you’re hungover. Sam, I wan these grounds swept clean with no trace of us having been here. We’re moving out in twenty minutes.” 

“Yes Sir. Sir? Please remember we are just as eager as you are. He’s our friend as well.”  
Steve squared his jaw. The change in him was remarkable.  
“Gentlemen. We’re gonna find Tony.” 

…


	17. Pepper pepper Bo Bepper, Banana fana fo fepper, fi fy mo mepper, Pepper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet Pepper. Pepper meets Tony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter today. Because I feel like it.

There was a loud knocking. Pepper rolled over. The knocking continued.  
Grumbling, Pepper rolled out of bed and stuck her feet in her slippers. She thundered down the stairs, muttering  
“If it’s those damned kids again I swear I will organize a creative school for gifted youngsters where the teachers do nothing but read classic literature, and convince all the ladies in the neighbourhood mothers association to send their kids there, we’ll see how they like it, the little monsters, I bet they’d -TONY!”  
This last exclamation came from having reached her front door, opened it, and found the owner of the name standing on the doorstep. 

“Hey Pep! Diddya miss me?” And there was that stupid grin of his, shining like all was well in the world. Pepper threw her arms around him and started crying. 

… 

After Pepper had gotten over the initial shock, she was filled first with relief and then anger. She’d ushered Tony into her apartment and sat him on the couch and rung for the footman on duty. He in turn had given up such a loud yell of surprise when he’d seen tony, that the maid next door had come over, rubbing sleep out of her eyes, whom had taken one look at Tony and then run shrieking down the hall, and now Peppers apartment was overflowing. There was no room to sit down, and when trying to walk she had to shove people out of the way. 

She couldn’t blame them though. Tony having come back was a miracle. When they’d heard about the bandit attack, many of them had despaired. Tony was too important to loose. 

Pepper made her way across the floor, stepping over legs and weaving around bodies, all of whom were waiting to get to Tony. When she finally reached him, she couldn’t even see him because of all the people holding on to him. She could see the relief and happiness in their faces, the way they were trying to touch him as if it would bless them. 

 

“Alright! It’s late, he’s been on the road for too long, and he needs sleep! Let go of him! You will get to see him tomorrow, so everybody not on active duty go back to your rooms!” Pepper shouted. 

 

A collective “Aaaawwwwwwww.” Went up, but even the newest servants knew better to contradict miss Potts when she sounded like that. Slowly, her apartment emptied and the big ball of people around Tony unwrapped themselves and let him go. He emerged with tousled hair and a flushed face. 

 

“Wow People, thank you, I love you too, great to see you, I missed you too, I’m fine, let’s allg go at it tomorrow, alright …” He kept up a steady stream of phrases as they all called out to him before they went through the door, wishing him welcome back, telling him how much they’d missed him, how blessed they were that he’d come back to them, and so on. 

When there were only five people left in the room, Pepper gestured for the manservant named Beek to shut the door. She surveyed the room. No one had stoved away, it was just her, Beek, the maid named Helena, and the old cook Beckers who was currently stirring something on her own small stove. And of course, Tony. 

Pepper just had time to realize how quickly his face had become pale again, and he fell to his knees. 

“Tony! She shrieked, and ran to him. Helena was already there, and together with Beek they lifted Tony onto a couch. 

“Tony? Have you taken care of yourself? You’re not …” 

Pepper didn’t know how to finish the sentence. Tony grinned. 

“Dried out? Very nearly. I ran out of salt two days ago.” 

Helena paled and Beek started cursing. In the kitchen Beckers ledft the pot and started frantically searching for Peppers small store of salt. 

“There. In the left drawer.” Pepper pointed it out, and helped the cook carry the small sack into the living room. 

Beek had already hoisted a grip under Tony’s shoulders and lifted him up a bit so that Helena could untie his breeches. 

Pepper and Becker put the sack down, and while Becker started cutting it open, Pepper rushed to help Helena untie the strings Tony always wove around his calves to prevent the material from hitching up and exposing his legs. It was awful, the leather strips tangled and Pepper became frantic, she knew they needed to be as quick as possible. 

She cursed herself for not seeing this earlier, for allowing all of the servants to take up Tony’s time when he’d been suffering. 

Finally Pepper tore the knife out of Becker’s hands and started cutting of the breeches. They tore the material of, and Becker brought a cup and started scooping out salt and pouring it on Tony’s legs. Beek had fetched wet cloths and together they started rubbing the skin. Tony was breathing shallow breaths, leaning back against the armrest with closed eyes. 

Pepper shivered. Tony’s beautiful legs, normally shining and shimmering in the slightest light, which should have been shimmering almost like fragments of rubies in the low firelight, were matt and flaking. She cried when fragments of scales started coming of and falling to the floor. She saw that Helena’s eyes were also wet, and noticed a slight shake in Beek’s hands. Only Becker seemed unfazed. 

 

They rubbed for ages. Helena ran out of the room to find more salt and water, while Becker took her place. The fire had burned to coals before Tony opened his eyes and grinned at Pepper, for the second time that evening. 

“Wow tuts. Couldn’t wait to get your hands on me, huh?” 

Helena fell backwards and Beek gave of a shaky laugh. Becker gave Tony a small pat and continued rubbing his legs. The old woman had the strongest hands Pepper had ever seen. 

“Wow. You really did a great job. They’ve even regained some of their shine. I’m gona be sore for a week though.” 

“And whose fault is that?!” Pepper had regained some of her anger. She recognized that it was mostly the frustration, at the world for being so fucked up and at Tony for never behaving seriously.  
“Tony! Stop laughing. You could have died. What the hell were you thinking, going two days without taking care of your legs!” 

“No, sorry, sorry Peps. I didn’t mean to. I really thought I ‘d be able to stop before this, to restock or something, but then things changed and I couldn’t risk it. I was close enough so I decided to just push on. Figured I’d make it.” 

“Lord, you are dumb.” Beeks shook his head. 

Tony grinned at him. “Well, it worked din’t it? I knew you’d save me. You’d rub me for a week if you had to.” 

“Don’t count on it. I’m making some tea. Next time we’ll simply cut you up and sell you ass dried fish on the market. Easier all around.” Helena got up and move towards the kitchen. 

 

“I missed you too sweetheart!” Tony called after her. 

“Tony. Tell us what happened.” Pepper sat down next to him. “We need to know. So tell us.” 

So Tony did. 

 

He told them about how the journey had started out fine. How the bandits had scattered them, and about his stay at the inn, about his beating. Pepper cast a startled glance at Tony’s legs, and now she that she was over the initial panic she could see the traces of the beating on the scales. 

Beek cracked his knuckles, a habit he displayed every time he felt like beating someone up. Pepper would be willing to bet that the landlord did not have a very peaceful future ahead of him. Beek was good at making peoples lives awful. 

Tony continued. He told them about the soldiers, how he’d travelled with them. How he’d left them. Pepper could see how lonely he’d looked then, and knew he must have felt sorrow over that. 

Tony told them about how he’d travelled across the mountains, keeping away from people except for when he needed more food or salt. How at first he’d been fine, but how he’d started seeing posters wanting to find him, promising a reward and providing a description of a boy who seemed to look a lot like Tony. How he thougt that the soldiers must have been looking for him. How he’d seen one of them in a town closer to the sea, and how he’d heard a couple of guards in one of the bigger cities talk about a strange order they’d gotten, to guard the salt supplies. Then tony had stopped being careful with himself and started fleeing for real. He’d run from dusk till dawn every day he could, barely giving himself time t eat and find a hiding place for the day. How he’d covered in a ditch to avoid a patrol. How he’d almost run into a group of soldiers and only escaped by climbing a tre. How he’d layed completely still and let himself be stung by bees to avoid alerting the men directly under the tree. 

At that point Tony had run out of salt and abandoned all caution. He’d walked for almost fifty hours straight to arrive at the mansion, and knocked on Peppers door in the middle of the night. 

“Oh Tony.” Pepper didn’t know what to say. She put her arms around him and hugged him as close as she could. He hugged her back and rested his head on her shoulder. She felt her nightshirt grow wet and knew he was crying.  
Slowly rocking him, she held him till his breathing calmed and Tony fell asleep in her arms. 

…


	18. The Jesus Chapter, part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony's certainly popular. You wouldn't think it would you, if you've heard him talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A third chapter. In one day. You're getting spoilt, you brats!

Birds were chirping. Tony considered this rude. When people were trying to sleep things should be quiet. He turned over and pulled a pillow over his head. Wait, that was wrong, he should be-  
It took a while but slowly the memories came back to him.  
Oh. Okay. He’d made it to the mansion then. And Pepper had been there. His legs had been taken care of. Great. He’d been scared for a while there, but he’d made it. He’d made it again.  
He suddenly started shaking. Tony realized that this was the delayed shock, and bit down on the sheets to prevent himself from biting his tongue. His body rocked with sobs, and he gripped the pillow as hard as he could. This always happened. He went through some near death experience and he was fine, but as soon as he was safe his body cashed in on the checks his brain had been writing and he broke down.  
Tony tried to keep as still while it lasted, and when he felt his muscles relaxing he knew the worst was over. He allowed himself to enjoy the moment a little. He’d survived. Again. The euphoria wasn’t as great at the first five times, but the feeling was still nice. 

 

Soon Tony sat up. He tried to get a bearing on his surroundings.  
Soooo. Nice bed, four posters. Big, glass-paned windows. Nice decorations, reminded him of Peppers apartment, just slightly more expensive. Ah. He was in the master bedroom then. His master bedroom. In his mansion.  
Tony sighed. He’d never liked being a lord. 

“Helloooooo? Anyone there?” He got out of bed and padded across the floor towards the big double doors. He opened them. 

“Tony!” “My Lord” “We missed you” “…marry me!” “…prayed for you” “Welcome home …” “My lord! Please bless ….” “…how are our people…” “Blessings upon you..” “…many a night…” “The lord sent us a savior..” “Let us pray…” “May we love you, lord…” “Salt for your legs…” “…made some fish stew, since you’ve been…” “…in the mountains, did you…” “…please oh lord…” 

Tony closed the doors.  
Quietly he padded over to the big oak wardrobe and proceeded to drag it in front of the doors. There was an insistent knocking now, and when he listened, Tony could hear the voices form the other side. 

“Lively, aren’t they?”  
Tony spun around. Pepper emerged from a small side door, disguised to blend in with the wallpaper.  
“Really. The first thing I see when I step out into the world is a human wall of servants worshiping me. That sort of thing is not good for a man’s heart.”  
“But you didn’t have to block of the door. They’re just happy to see you. We all knew there was a chance you could have died. And where would we have been then?”  
“In deep shit, that’s where. I know. Why’d you think I fight so hard?”  
“Tony. It shouldn’t be like that. You should try to …”  
“No. First of all, no. I’m not having babies. That’s crazy. I’m far too young to be tied up at my age.”  
“Tony! It’s not about commitment, it’s about having a safety net, someone who could take over if …”  
“If what? If I died? If I don’t make it? If I go crazy? So you wouldn’t have to worry so unduly whenever you can’t keep me in a castle? You’re starting to sound just like the king.”  
Tony went over to the window and crept up on the sill. 

“Tony, no. I meant, with an heir the king would be more lenient with you. Now he pushes you too hard. It would get better with an heir. I hate to see you so close to death, all the time.”  
Tony gave a hollow laugh.  
“Pepper, you don’t know him like I do. We all want the same thing, but all of us has different agendas on how to get there. You don’t know the king as well as I do. Besides, the way for me to leave an acceptable heir is, well, taxing.”  
He jumped of the ledge and skipped over to the wardrobe, now inconveniently placed in front of the doors. Pepper suddenly felt incredibly aware of how naked Tony was.  
“Who carried me here last night?”  
“Beek. After you fell asleep we decided it was best to take you here.”  
“Good choice. Place me in the most obvious location. No one will come looking for me here.”  
“Tony. Don’t be mean.”  
“Pepper, you know I’m a little ball of sunshine. What the hell is this?” Tony held up a long garment he’d found inside the wardrobe. It looked like a white nightshirt, but with slightly better material. “The whole wardrobe is full of them. These are not my clothes.”  
“That’s the point. Your clothes are awful. You wear those small vest tops and hay sacks that you call pants, it’s not appropriate. Not for a lord.”  
“No, course, this isn’t your first attempt at a clothes coup, but why the hells a nightshirt? I wasn’t aware they were in fashion.”  
“They’re not. Those are actually not my work.”  
“Then whose? Who the hell would make me wear something this awful?” 

“Me.” Mrs. Becker hobbled in through the little door. “You’ven’t been taken care of yours legs. So you wear those, it easy for me to rub them.”  
Indeed, the little old lady had a mug of salt in one hand.  
“Aw, come on! Really? You’re making me wear a nightshirt?” Tony stared sorrowfully at Pepper. He knew that there was no mercy to be found with Becker.  
“No complaints Tony. When you’re ready Becker will bring you downstairs so the servants can see you and know you’re safe.” Pepper smoothly slid out the door. 

As she walked down the corridor she heard Tony complaints.  
“No, don’t try to … why would you do that. Look at it it’s … I can do it myself, if you just … ah, ahha, that tickles, please don’t … owow, no, don’t rub there, you’ll … you’ve rubbed every inch of me, why don’t you just …”  
She smiled to herself. He was safe. 

…


	19. The Jesus Chapter, part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I just really really like describing Tony. That's what this chapter is for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit displeased with this chapter, it felt a bit haphazard, but I want to get on with the story so I'll leave it be for now. Also the more you comment the more I love you.

Pepper had to acknowledge that although Mrs. Becker didn’t care much for fashion, she knew how to use clothes to achieve an effect.  
Pepper roped a couple of manservants into herding the servants into the atrium. Everyone who was not on active duty and several who should be had made their way over and were waiting at the foot of the grand staircase. A whisper went up, as Tony rounded the corner and started down the stair.  
  
He was beautiful. It was the first thing that had struck Pepper when she met him, and she was reminded of the fact now. The sun came in from the big gilded windows behind Tony, and hit him at just the right angle. His hair had grown a bit since he’d cut it before setting out, and it curled in a becoming way around his ears. His face was calm and rosier than last night. The salt had already helped him a lot.  
The long white robe hung on him, not in an unattractive way, but just enough to show off his shoulders and upper arms. It went all the way to the floor, but there were several long slits running up to his hips, and the glimpses of the scales, looking better still from the salt, was already gleaming everywhere the sunlight hit them.  
Becker, who had been following slightly behind Tony, obscured by his presence, had paused. There were drapes in front of the windows. She threw the apart. Tony, which had walked in and out of the sunbeams, was suddenly haloed in light.  
  
Pepper thought; He looks like a king.  
Then Tony reached the bottom of the staircase and the crowd surged forward to meet him. 

  


… 

  


“Really Pepper, was that necessary?”  
  
“They needed it Tony. They needed to know you were safe.”  
  
“They knew it, the noise we made last night must have woken half the city. I’m surprised the city guard hasn’t showed up and asked us to vacate the premises or something.”  
“They might have known it, but they needed more. Tony, they’re your people. Maybe not the same as you, but still yours. They needed to welcome you home.”  
  
“This isn’t my home. My home is the tower at the other end of the estate. This ‘stately hall’ was my father’s home. Not mine.”  
  
“Tony. Your father might have been a human and he might have been scared of what he didn’t understand, but he left this place to you. He knew you were his child, and he loved you. Don’t pretend you feel nothing for this place.” 

  


Tony was silent.  
  
“I don’t understand why you won’t move in here though. It’s stupid to leave it empty. You should just move out of your rooms in the servant’s quarters and come here. It’d be better. “  
Pepper sighed. It wasn’t the first time they’d been over this.  
  
“As you are already aware, Tony, what you insist on referring to as ‘the servants quarters’ is actually a respectable compartment building, which I run. Along with the rest of your businesses. I like to be close to my work.”  
  
“Yes, but all the servants live there.”  
  
“You gave them a discount, and it’s got all the modernities. Why are you still surprised they wanted to move in?”  
  
“Cause it’s so close to the mansion and so far from the city. I thought they’d either live for free in the mansion or rent places in the city and be close to other people. I just don’t get why someone would want to stay here.”  
  
“Because they love you.” Pepper stopped walking and turned around to face Tony. “They really love you Tony. Don’t you dare forget it.”  
  
She could see he was astounded. She gently took his arm and nudged him on. “Come on.”  
The walked on in silence. 

  


… 

  


“So, as much as I’d love to stay here, I’ve gotta move on. I’ve been delayed enough already.” Tony addressed the room. It’s occupants nodded.  
  
“And, the reason you dragged me here is you wanna hear how I’m gonna do it.”  
Tony sat down and crossed his legs. Across the room a man stood up.  
“Yes. You.” Tony pointed.  
  
“Thank you my Lord. I am Barten, my Lord. I have worked with Leader Rhodes. I have gone over the problem, and it is indeed difficult. All caravans that lead towards the east are being put through military control. Wanted posters are out. The ways are crawling with patrols to the extent that banditry has become non-existent. It is not possible to go through the land.”  
  
“That’s right Tony.” Pepper spoke up. “We know you can’t go the normal way, and the ships are just as bad. Ports are being put under lock and key, the military combs through everything that goes on and off any ship. Not even fishermen can sell their wares without proving they haven’t hidden anything under the fish. It’s getting ridiculous, quite frankly.”  
  
“Yes.” Tony rapped his fingers on the table. They had all gathered in the library. “You’re right. It’s getting ridiculous. Even if they know I’m a merman, even if they are worried about it they shouldn’t be that vigilant. I wonder what it really is about.”  
  
“Speaking of that, Tony, where is it? The box I mean.” Pepper looked almost worried, so Tony flashed her his usual grin.  
  
“Safely stashed away, stump. I wouldn’t allow my heart to break so easily you know.”  
Pepper left it at that.  
  
  
“My lord.” Barten spoke up again. “We digress. Please get back on topic. I believe that trained soldiers and fast horses would be the best-“  
  
“No.” Tony interrupted him.  
  
“I- I’m sorry, my lord? I thought-“  
  
“You have studied our history, right? Big groups around mermaids who are aware of that said mermaid is an actual mermaid is the second worst idea ever, running up closely behind having mermaids in groups together. To many people who can slip up, who can be tempted with money or threatened into betrayal. No soldiers. No horses. They tend to dislike me.”  
  
“But, but my lord! How will you otherwise-“  
  
“I’ll just have to do what I’ve always done. What we’ve always done. Blend in.”  
  
Pepper sighed. “Tony, you know that’s not gonna work. I just told you that all caravans and ships are being searched so thoroughly that even the rats are accounted for.”  
To his credit, Tony didn’t speak until she had finished.  
  
“Yeah, peps, that’s right. All the legal ones, at any rate.” He grinned, and Pepper suddenly shuddered. She didn’t like the gleam in his eyes. “So all I have to do is find the ones which normally like to avoid soldiers, who are used to doing to.” 

  


The room was silent for a while, trying to understand what Tony was saying. Suddenly Mrs. Becker in the corner gasped. “No! You want go to bandit!”  
  
“What?!” Pepper stuttered. “No! Tony you can’t! If they discover you they’ll sell you to collectors! They might skin you alive! Or worse! Tony, you know that outlaws have special laws concerning mermaids. While regular folks often at least turn over the mermaids they find to the local justices, there are often at least a pretense at a trial. Thieves and murderers aren’t like that. They’ve been closer to mermaids for longer, so they’re not as scared! But they see you as toys! Something not human! Tony? Do you understand what you’re saying!” Pepper was almost screaming. 

The rest of the room had similar objections.  
  
Tony simply waited till they had all run out of steam.  
“It’s the best solution,” he said, quite simply, when they finally went quiet, “and you know it. There is no way I’m gonna get there in a group. By the way, bandits are ruled out. They’re too scared. The roads are too well patrolled.” He licked his lips. “Pirates, on the other hand, are an entirely different matter.”  
The room burst out in chatter and objections again. Tony waited them out again.  
  
“Think about it, okay? Consider the time I have left. Consider what will happen if I don’t get there on time. The only way that has a fifty percent chance of getting me there on time is going with pirates.  
Soldiers, or better yet, a disguise, might get me there, but not on time. No way I’d get there on time. Bandits and caravans might get me there on time, but there is less than a ten percent’s chance that I’ll make it at all. Pirates is our best bet. There is no other option even worth considering.” 

Pepper felt to her chagrin that her eyes were wet. She didn’t want to send out Tony to odds like that.  
“Tony, please, there must be some other way. We can come up with something, we just have to take some time to think it through.”  
  
“No!” Tony slammed his fist on the table. “There is no other way! Don’t you think I’ve been thinking it though? Every waking moment since I realized the soldiers were after me, I’ve been trying to think of another way! There is no other way! Believe me when I say so.” He fell back in his chair and suddenly he seemed so tired.  
“I leave in the morning. I will give Mrs. Becker a list of everything I need. Pepper, I’ll ask you to prepare some things for me as well.”  
  
Pepper nodded and stood up. She knew Tony was right. “Let’s go. We all have things to see to, if the departure is to go smoothly. Go on. You all know your duties. Instruct your underlings, and carry out your tasks. Nothing can hitch tonight.”  
  
She threw a last look over her shoulder as she chased the servants out of the library. Tony had buried his face in his hands. 

  


… 

  


Later that night Tony came and found Pepper in her room. They held each other. Tony told her then, about how scared he was. About the friends he’d made, Jarvis, Bucky, Sam.  
About Steve. About the way he noticed Steve watching him sometimes. About how the sunlight shone in his hair, about how blue his eyes were, about the way he moved, like he always knew exactly where he was and where he was going. How Steve could tease him until he stopped sulking, about how Steve had stopped him from falling of his horse so many times and never berated Tony for not being able to ride. How Steve had held Tony until he’d fallen asleep.  
  
Pepper did that then, held him, tightly, until he fell asleep. She knew how he must miss those men, to tell her about them. 

  


But not even Pepper could know about Tony’s suspicions that Steve knew what he was. Tony clutched that secret to his chest as he finally fell into a fitful slumber. 

…


	20. Crisis meetings and accidental innuendos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is an emergency meeting. With a positive conclusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made it! Hooray hooray hooray! Twenty chapter in less than twenty days.  
> Can you believe it? I almost can't.  
> I'll probably not be able to keep up the pace, but I promise I'll publish at least six chapters a week. If three of those chapters ar published almost simultaneously on sunday night right before 12 pm, well, I'll still be within my goals.  
> Also, I'll probably continue with at least another twenty chapters.  
> So expect more and keep hanging around.  
> Love you!

”So, let’s go over this again.” Sam leaned back in his chair. “How did we get from ‘let’s keep it under wraps and try to continue our search’ to where we are now, which is ‘the government has gotten involved and taken over our search and gone overboard’?” 

Everyone in the room glared at Bucky. 

“Not my fault!” Bucky threw up his hands. “I simply did what I’ve always done, which is exploiting every channel. Not my fault I got referred to some asshole which was a government spy on the lookout for suspicious magical elements. I am completely not at fault here, guys.” 

The glaring continued.  
“Okay, maybe a little at fault.” 

Sam stood up. “Guys. We need to decide what we should do now. Unfortunately, our commander isn’t fit to lead, but he’s always pulled through before, so while he might currently spend his days doing the military equivalent of writing poems about death and daffodils, we need to hang on until he’s back in form.” 

“Well, he’d better hurry the hells up. It’s pathetic, that’s what it is.” Jim Morita looked pissed.  
Sam agreed. It was pathetic, and Steve shouldn’t have broken down like he did, but Sam could understand why it had happened. 

 

…

 

After Tony had disappeared, they’d started out the search. Steve had decided that Tony had to be heading East. There’d been a slight argument, but Steve had insisted that since they’d been traveling east so far, and Tony had continued with them, he’d still be heading east.  
They’d done a lot of headway, they’d asked around but kept it discreet, avoided the major roads and cities, like Tony would have done, they travelled both day and night to cover a wider ground, and they wore civilian clothes when asking for directions. They didn’t want any rumors travelling ahead of them.  
But then, a small patrol of three men had been found by a garrison. Steve had gone to investigate. When he didn’t return as he should, they grew worried. Almost twelve hours after Steve should have returned, one of the missing men had arrived, and told them that Steve had been detained.  
They had no choice but to bring in the squad to the fort where Steve had been held. When they arrived, he had changed completely. He was no longer the vibrant, brave, commander which they had known. He barely seemed to have enough energy to go through his duties. 

Sam understood him though. Thinking you’d failed your sweetheart could get anyone down. 

Somehow, somebody in the government had heard about the squad. It wasn’t certain what they’d heard, but somebody had received enough information to decide that the escaped stable boy and his mysterious box had to be found at all costs. As a consequence of this, Steve’s squad had been taken in for questioning. 

Of course, the fact that they’d been roaming all over the place, never checking in, not using the roads or wearing their uniforms, made it hard as hell. Tripping over the small patrol must have been like a gift from heaven.  
So they’d been brought in, split up and questioned relentlessly. Some of the newer recruits hadn’t been able to stick to the drill. So the high command had gotten to know that Tony had been with them but had fled, as well, for some reason, about of his obsession with salt.  
Soon there had been guards set up around every large salt reserve in every village large enough to own a forge. The manpower employed in searching for one boy was unprecedented. 

Sam shook his head. Someone must have been really scared of that box. 

For almost a week they had been locked up at this stupid camp, with Steve so depressed he didn’t even respond when Bucky tried to tease him, and no idea what to do about the situation. 

Which is why they were having an emergency meeting. 

 

… 

 

“Alright. Jones, go over who are still with us.”  
“Right Sir, Captain Rogers, Sergeants Wilson and Barnes, Corporals Dugan, Falsworth, and Dernier, Privates Morita and Jones, are present from the original team of three years. Newer members include privates Gallaver, Mons, Eddards, Porter, Sensa, Devons, Madden, Ningon, and Meisne.  
Including the Captain, we number seventeen in total. Not a large troop, after those whose loyalties lay with the brass rather than with their troop departed.  
It’s a pretty grim situation, Sir.”  
Gabe sat down. 

“Men.” Bucky stood up. “This is not a good position to be in. We are in, trouble, to say the least. We have been confined and our movements restricted. We are all facing charges of disobeying a direct order, in the best case scenario. We’re probably in for worse.  
Our Captain cannot be depended on. This is the largest problem. Usually he’d power through and we’d trust him to cover our backs as we cover his. This is not happening.  
Which brings us to the root of the problem. Tony.  
His disappearance was unfortunate. Also my fault, but let’s not go there.” Bucky shifted almost imperceptibly away from Sam’s deadly glare. “Really, there would be nothing useful to be gained from blaming me. It happened. We move on.” 

“So, we are immobilized in a great big mess of our own making, and zere is nozing zat we can make of it.” Jacques spoke up. “We do not know how to unmake it.” 

“We don’t?” Bucky looked surprised. Everyone gaped. “No, I mean, the root of the problem was Tony’s disappearance right? So all we’ve got to do is keep at it and find Tony. Also, Cap didn’t get depressed until after the top brass got involved, so we need to make sure we find Tony before anyone else does. See? Simple.” 

After two minutes he shifted uncomfortably. The stares were getting to him. 

His savior, unexpectedly, came in the form of a red-eyed youth at the name of Sensa. Second youngest of the group, he had not yet reached his twenties.  
“I think that sounds sensible.” The stares turned towards him. “No, cause, see, it’s uncomplicated. The way Sarge talks about it, maybe this mess isn’t as complicated as we thought.” 

“We’re simple men, Sarge.” Porter turned towards Sam. “We like the world simple. We find Tony, get Captain back in fighting shape and let him deal with the difficulties. After all this sulking, I don’t feel too bad about pushing it all onto him.” 

“We just need to find Tony.” Bucky had somehow sneaked up on Sam and put his hand on Sam’s arm. “But to do that,” Bucky grinned, “We need our Captain back. Since he didn’t get depressed when we lost Tony but when the top brass got involved, we need to make him understand that we can get to Tony first.” 

Bucky’s grin widened.  
“And we all know who’s good at talking to Steve.”  
Sam grabbed his collar and practically threw him towards Steve’s tent.  
“Well, what are you waiting for? Now go put that silver tongue of yours to use. Talking is the only thing that big mouth of yours is good for. ”  
Sam did a double take, realizing just what a great opportunity he’d given Bucky.  
Strangely, Bucky didn’t take it. He simply stalked off. In the orange light of the afternoon, his hair seemed almost red. He was incredibly pretty, Sam couldn’t help but notice. Just before he reached the tent opening though, he turned around again. Sam had been expecting it, and hurriedly dismissed the people around him. 

“Alright men, you know Bucky’s skills. We move out before nightfall. It’s gonna be tough, but we’ve never let high walls or armed guards stop us before. Remember, no causalities, supplies to last for three weeks if measured out properly, we need horses and the papers in the main office building.  
This camp isn’t big, but there are still an adequate number of men here. Divide yourself into four squads, choose a leader. Squad leaders assemble in three hours. Meeting point will be decided later. We need forerunners and weapons. See if you can get two guys out beforehand. Alright, let’s do this!” 

The men scrambled to follow his directions, and Sam reveled in the busyness. Eventually though, he couldn’t put it off any longer. He knew the damned man was still waiting. Reluctantly he turned around.  
His gaze was dragged towards Bucky, who had remained still at the tent flap during the commotion. There was something magnetic about Bucky, gods damn him.  
Although he couldn’t hear him, Sam knew exactly which words he was mouthing.  
“Strange. That’s not what you said last night.” 

Bucky hurriedly ducked into the tent to avoid the small stool Sam had flung after him. 

 

…


	21. Drugs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky makes a startling discovery. Oh Horror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please please read with caution. Mentions use of narcotics. 
> 
> Brinddle is a name I made up, for a substance I made up. Because I'm to lazy to google things and I wanna publish this today.  
> Really, um, imagine that it would be used as elephant tranquilizers in our world. That's sorta what I was thinking. Sorry for mess.

Steve was lying on his cot, eyes closed, when Bucky slunk in. He stirred a bit when Bucky leaned over him, so he wasn’t entirely unconscious.  
“…fetch, Harris, ‘ll know what t’ do …”  
Bucky silently cursed the doctor. Harris had disappeared from the company when the first wanted posters of Tony appeared. Steve had taken the betrayal hard. To Bucky, Harris had seemed like the one who became closest to Tony, next to himself and Steve, perhaps.  
Really, Harris might have been the one who got to know most about Tony. Bucky didn’t like to admit it. He had come to care for Tony, and held a sort of perverse pride at being the only one except Steve who could handle Tony in a sulk.  
But Harris had been different. Tony might have opened up to him. 

The thought that Harris might have been an undercover government agent who could have sold Tony out was almost physically painful. 

 

Shaking his head, Bucky made his way over to Steve’s bed.  
”C’mon, Cap. Steve. Time to rise and shine. You’ve wallowed enough.”  
Steve opened his eyes, but slowly, as though it was difficult. 

“Alright bud. This is what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna find Tony.” 

In quick, sharp words Bucky described the plan that the men had set in motion. To his surprise, though Steve stayed apparently attentive during his speech, but once Bucky stopped speaking, Steve seemed to be unable to focus anymore, and his eyelids dropped shut. 

 

“What the …? Steve, we need to...!” Bucky started standing up, but stopped halfway. He leaned forward, on his toes.  
“Oh.”  
Bucky reached out and grabbed Steve’s arm, almost hidden under a blanket.  
There was a needle stuck in it. There was a tube attached to the needle. Bucky followed the tube. The tube, in turn, was hidden but attached in quite a stealthy way to some transparent bottle of foggy liquid. 

Bucky gaped. There was no way that Steve, his Steve, righteous, courageous Steve, could possible had fallen to the point where he would use Brinddle to escape. Bucky thought about how Steve had acted, when he had stopped caring. How he seemed to be less alive. 

“Bloody hells, Steve. You really did fall apart when you lost him.” Bucky shook his head, slowly stood up and walked out, a man whose world had broken. 

 

…


	22. I just love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What do people do when the one thing they've dedicated their lives to the last years fail them? That's right. They get horribly drunk.

As Bucky walked through the camp, all those who caught sight of his face knew something was wrong. Especially the newer recruits were aghast. Eddards intercepted him before he reached Sam’s tent.  
“Sergeant! Sergeant, what- What happened?”  
Bucky shook his head.  
“The Captains hooked, kid. Never knew we’ve been looking up to an addict all this time.” 

Eddards gaped at him. Then he suddenly shut his mouth, as the realization hit him and his face paled.  
“Sarge …”  
“Now, don’t you start, kid. Go on, hurry up. Better make haste.” 

As Eddards ran off, Bucky made his way into Sam’s tent. Upon entry, he saw a man he didn’t recognize talking to Sam.  
“Sergeant.” Bucky nodded curtly, and looked pointedly at the man.  
“Sergeant.” Sam stood up. “This is Mister Bellford. Who was just leaving.”  
The little man glared at Bucky but scuttled out of the tent. 

“What’s happened, Buck? You look awful.”  
“Did you know?” Bucky looked up at Sam. “I never knew. Cap’s an addict. Must have taken to it after Tony left, when he was, you know, unable to stop him.”  
Sam, in silent shock, looked down at Bucky.  
“What … What are we gonna do?” the panic had almost entered his voice.  
Bucky’s eyes had become moist, and he reached down for a bottle he knew Sam would keep underneath the desk.  
“We’ve, we’ve just gotta do what we’ve been doing I guess. No heroics here anymore.” Bucky’s finger found the bottle and closed on the neck. He sat up and took a swig from it. 

Sam’s eyes flashed, and Bucky knew he disapproved, but he’d be damned if he was gonna let that stop him from drinking now.  
With all the trouble ahead Bucky intended to build up at least a pleasant buzz while he had the chance. 

Sam grabbed his shoulder.  
“C’mon. You better show me. If both of us haven’t seen it, the men will not believe us.  
And share that bottle with me.” 

They left the tent. 

 

To an outsider, the path Bucky and Sam took might have seemed strange. They passed through the stables, talked to the soldiers stationed there, hobbled past the gate with a couple of bottles they’d scrounged from the kitchen, and finally wobbled their way past the sleeping quarters, by this time quite heavily inebriated.  
They were singing. The people they’d been talking to had all partaken in their worries as well as their booze, so where they had gone, drinking had followed. High command would have been surprised at the amount of alcohol the men had managed to stash away. There were a lot of empty bottles littered on the ground.  
Nobody seemed to take the news that their beloved commander, the man who had seemed as straight as an arrow, was a dreg. Bucky, far past the ‘pleasant buzz’-stage, was heralding the news in a loud voice, occasionally interrupted by sobs. 

“… never knew he’d do that, our captain. Not our capt-*hick*-ain. Not him, no, we didn’t see it, we were too slow, we need to speed up if we don’t wanna …”  
Eventually, after much ado, they reached Steve’s tent. Bucky and Sam, by now relying on each other for support, which isn’t often a good idea when either person is quite unable to stand up straight on his own, fell through the opening. 

 

… 

 

Mister Bellford opened the door to an almost overlooked cabin in the corner of the camp, stepped inside and carefully closed it behind him. 

“They discovered the Brinddle.”  
The men in the room looked at him.  
“Well?” a uniformed man in the corner said impatiently.  
“They believe he’s drugged himself to deal with his failure.”  
“Good.” 

The people in the room relaxed. Mister Bellford smiled a tight little smile, the corners of his mouth twitching.  
“We will have to separate them soon. We can’t risk any of the men suspecting anything or trying to get him clean. Even a small decrease in the dosage might allow him to … act.”  
A small woman had across the room had spoken up.  
Mister Bellford nodded. “Correct. Very well-articulated, Miss Beddan. In two days’ time an additional squad will arrive with the castle. Just the usual rotation of the men. We will be able to send him away with the men who are being replaced.” 

“This will not raise question?”  
“All military protocol has been followed. There are no concerns regarding that. Simply make sure that our … guests do not do anything, stupid, while intoxicated. We wouldn’t want any officers poking around examining holes in walls and such things. They might see things they shouldn’t.”  
There was a general murmur of agreement. 

Mister Bellford’s lips twitched again.  
He smiled. 

 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, dreg is slang for addict. I am horrible at slang and will therefore be making up my own.


	23. Being a little shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The soldiers get moving. Go, guys, go!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! The two previous chapters were not very nice chapters. I didn't like them. This one is better.

Sam and Bucky fell face first through the tent opening. They hit the ground hard. Nothing moved for a few seconds, as the tent flap fell down behind them and hid them from view. 

Suddenly, Bucky and Sam were no longer horizontal, loud or inebriated. They were both upright and sneaking across the floor in an instant, over to Steve’s cot. Sam located the big glass bottle of Brinddle. 

“You pinched of the opening”  
“Yes, to halve the flow. We needed to cut him off as soon as possible, but we can’t have him go cold turkey. I’ve seen people get cut off from brindle twice before, and it wasn’t pretty either time.”  
“He’s got that superpotion thing in his veins, how do you think it will affect him?”  
“No idea. Let’s just grab him and go.” 

The conversation was carried out in whispers. The two sergeants stole around the cot till they both reached opposite ends of it. 

“And a one, and a two, and a lift!” 

They lifted Steve’s cot with Steve on it, and carried it over to the eastern wall of the tent. Gallaver and Ningon were waiting on the other side.  
The two men who had previously been spotted by guards on opposite sides on the camp, both engaged in drinking as if they expected the world to end the next day.  
There was no trace of intoxication in either man’s behavior. They caught the cot, and together the four of them ran off to the edge of the camp, a spot behind the latrines.  
There were four more men waiting in the shadow by the wall. Two of them were running back and forth, stuffing things into other things and tying objects together. The remaining two were engaged in throwing packages and bundles upwards. If anybody had walked over to the wall and glanced skywards at that moment, they would have seen two additional shadow figures atop the wall, catching the supplies and tossing them down the other side. 

Bucky grabbed one of the men running around by the shoulder.  
“Meisne! Report! I want the positions of the men!”  
“Sir, yes Sir! Myself and Dernier are currently engaged in assembling the last of our supplies Sir. Food, weapons, currency, proof and documentation of what has been going on, those special items you ordered us to pick up, as well as extra medical supplies. We’ve just about wrapped up the last of it, Sir.”  
“Well done. Go on.”  
“Dugan and Madden are slugging up the bundles. Morita and Sensa are up top to pass them on.”  
“Good choice. Sensa is a bit green when it comes to stealth but Morita will cover him.”  
“Yes Sir. Devons and Jones are on the other side Sir, catching the stuff. Dingo and, I mean Mons and Porter should be leading the horses around right now Sir. They’ll be there in less than two minutes. After that it shouldn’t take more than fourteen minutes to get the supplies onto the horses.” 

“That leaves Falsworth and Eddards scouting ahead. Good. We don’t need Eddards getting more excited than necessary.” 

 

The two men nodded at each other and then went back to their respective tasks. Meisne ran back to help Jacques coil a length of rope which had wrapped itself around the man’s legs.  
Bucky turned back to the cot. While he had been talking, Sam, Gallaver and Ningon had maneuvered Steve onto the grass. Sam was tying him up, his leg tightly bound together and his arms pressed to his sides. Steve’s head was being held in place with a big fleece, so that it wouldn’t roll. Sam was just tying the glass bottle with the Brinddle to Steve’s belt, so it wouldn’t get unhooked. 

Ningon and Gallaver had dismantled the cot. Together, the four men managed to construct a kind of seat for Steve. They’d be able to put him in it to get him over the wall, as well as use it to fasten him to a horse. 

 

The men by the wall were just throwing up the last packages. Dum Dum and Meisne hurried over to help them carry Steve. Once they’d med it to the wall, Morita and Sensa threw down long coils of rope. Madden and Jacques had already scaled the walls and were waiting on the top.  
They fastened the rope to Steve, and tested their strength. 

“It will hold.” Bucky took a step back and waved at the men at the top.  
They watched in Silence as Steve was hoisted, rigid, in what looked like the wooden skeleton of a coffin, up the brick wall. It was a bizarre sight.  
Once he was halfway up, Bucky, Dum Dum, and Meisne started climbing. They reached the top just as Steve did. They had to. It took all their combined efforts and all their military strategy to get enough manpower in place on the thin wall to get Steve over the edge. 

Bucky sent Madden and Dum Dum down the other side to catch Steve.  
Then came the grueling work of slowly lowering Steve into the waiting arms of the men below. The wall was old. While it had been repaired on the inside, for some reason it had been neglected on the outside and was therefore crumbling. This meant they needed to make sure that Steve’s skeleton coffin didn’t touch the wall for risk of having rubble fall down and attract attention. 

It was difficult to say the least. 

Finally, Bucky heard a soft thump as Steve hit the ground. He looked over the edge and could make out one of the men waving, so he assumed it had gone well.  
The night was coming on and there was barely any light left, something Bucky was thankful for.  
Unfortunately, it wasn’t dark enough for him to miss Sensa take a flying jump of the wall. Bucky’s heart was in his throat and he almost called out, but then Sensa’s fall was broken and he flew backwards down to the wall. Bucky realized the idiot had tied a rope to his waist and jumped. Incredibly, he hit the wall with his feet and started climbing down easily.  
Jim shook his head.  
“Crazy kid. Almost as bad as Tony.”  
Bucky smirked at this.  
“You know who taught him?”  
“No?”  
“Wanna bet?”  
“No.” 

 

… 

Sam looked behind him one last time. The light was almost completely gone now, and it was hard to see anything, but at least the torches of the guards stayed within their normal patterns. They should have about two hours before somebody noticed they were gone. Enough to get ahead, and maybe do something about Steve. 

He turned back to the wall. Ningon had just started scaling it, with the help of the rope hanging in front of Sam. He sighed, hoisted his pack higher on his back and started climbing. 

Sam landed with a soft ‘thump’. He looked around him. Ningon and Gallaver had made it without problems, that he knew, but he didn’t know about the rest. The wall had been a difficult climb.  
A hand brushed his shoulder. Bucky appeared next to him.  
“Everyone’s present and accounted for. This way.” Bucky led the three men a little bit away, over to where the rest were waiting, already mounted. Steve was strapped to his horse securely.  
Sam counted.  
“Six horses without riders.”  
“Four for us. Two for Falsworth and Eddards, who we will pick up at the small brook with the bridge and the waterfall.”  
Sam nodded.  
“Let’s ride.” 

 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ps. Did I fool you? Did you think they were really drunk and despairing? Did I succeed?


	24. Farewell, farewell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helena takes Tony to daycare. Or atleast that's what it feels like.  
> Really, she's "escorting him untill he reached his ship to ensure that he won't raise any suspicions travelling alone with no viable excuse".  
> We all know the real reason she's there is to ensure that Tony won't try to start fires cause he's bored.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here we are. Still going strong. Making our way towards the end. Stick with me darlings.

Tony stepped down onto the docks. An ominous wind caught his cloak, tugging at it. The blast ruffled Tony’s hair. He gazed out towards the sea, a melancholy in his eyes. 

Smack!  
“Don’t try to look dramatic.” Helena had thumped the back of his head. 

“I wasn’t. That is an entirely unfair accusation.” 

“Oh please.” Helena snorted. “I know you, Tony. If you’re leaving on a perilous journey, there is no way you’ll skip your dramatic moment before ‘setting out’. I bet the only reason you wore the cloak was that you thought you’d look good.” 

“No. That is wrong. The weather is rough. A cloak is sensible travelwear. Please do not try to dirty my good name.” 

“You stuck out your chest. And put your foot on that step. Tony, you were posing.” 

 

Tony gasped at the horrible accusation and fled, before Helena had the chance to deflate his ego any further. 

 

She shook her head at his antics, but let him be. Anyway, there was nothing to be done about it. Tony would always push and tease in any way he could. 

Throwing the occasional glance in Tony’s direction to make sure he hadn’t fallen of the pier, much like a mother will watch her toddler at the seaside, Helena made her way over to the small jetty. There was a tiny wooden boat waiting. 

There were three men watching her approach. Two had gotten out of the boat and were standing in an almost non-threatening manner. The third seemed completely uninterested in her and was giving the little boat all the attention old men seemed to give to cigars. 

 

“Are you the one?” The shorter of the two men gave her an appraising look. “You look a bit frail to take up sailing, lady.” 

“No. It’s not me.” Helena returned the look with interest. “But once you see your actual recruit you’ll wish I was the one coming.” 

The man scoffed. “Yeah. I wouldn’t worry, lady. There’s nothing our crew can’t handle. We’ve been through maelstroms, flesh-eating slugs, sirens, witches, waterfalls, navies, competition, lightning wars, lock-downs …” 

The man continued counting all the perils he, and his crew though they seemed to be a minor matter to the man, had been through. 

Helena idly wondered if he was trying to impress her. Possibly. She did put on her very best dress this morning. Helena knew she looked good. Well. No harm in trying it out. 

She shook her hair loose, looked at him through lowered eyelashes, and said “Why, that sounds fascinating! You must be very brave. How did you ever make it through?” 

 

Helena watched with interest as the man visibly swelled and launched into a long tirade about all his adventures. Greatly exaggerated, no doubt. Well, it was good to know she’d be able to wind him around her finger if needed. 

The bigger man shifted uncomfortable. Helena looked at him. H was clearly unimpressed, both by her cleavage and his companions boasting. Yet he couldn’t say anything. Interesting. Was there really such a big difference in rank between them? 

 

Helena looked back to the smaller man. He kept going. His lung capacity, at least, was impressive. She let the words wash over her and tried to determine whether these men seemed to fit in with the description of the pirate crew she had been given. 

 

… 

 

When Tony had left the mansion, Helena was one of the people who went with him. She was one of those who knew him best, and she and pepper had a special way to communicate. So Helena was put in charge of Tony. The job no one wanted, and Pepper made her do it. Beek ha laughed out loud in relief when he heard he wouldn’t have to babysit Tony. 

Instead he got sent on an undercover mission into a heavily fortified castle to try and find out how much the government knew about Tony, with a high risk of being discovered and executed. It was generally agreed that Beek had gotten the better deal. 

 

Pepper had pulled some strings and gotten the name of a pirate crew whose captain was old fashioned in his views of mermaids. Ages ago, mermaids had been revered by sailors, worshipped as gods and prayed to for protection. Some old sailors still thought that mermaids were good luck and treasures to be protected. 

A couple of years back there had been a big bust in an official auction house where a mermaid was going to be sold. Some pirate crews had banded together to try and free it. Unfortunately, it had been killed by guards who were ordered to prevent it from escaping with their lives. But this crew had been one of the groups behind the raid. 

Of course, less than five percent of all pirates still thought like this. Nowadays, mermaids were worth enormous sums of money, and to most pirates this overshadowed any thought of lucky omens. 

 

Pepper had tried to get in contact with the crew. It had been close to impossible, until she dropped the Stark name. In the underworld, the Stark household was known as avid supporters of mermaids and mermaid rights. This was, of course, something to hide from polite society and daylight folks, but those who generally avoided the law and it’s servants knew. 

 

The crew sent a representative a couple of days later. Tony, who had reached the coast a couple of days earlier and was holed up in a safe house was driving Helena up the wall. She had never been more relieved than when the message arrived saying that the pirate crew of the ship Hobgoblin had agreed to take a member of the Stark household across the sea. For a modest fare, of course. 

 

… 

 

So here they were. The pirates were aware that Tony was from the Stark household, but not his position in it. They knew he was in favor of mermaids but not that he was one. They probably wouldn’t hold him ransom or try to sell him. It really was the best case scenario. 

Now she just had to pray to the gods that Tony didn’t annoy them so much they threw him overboard. 

She looked over to where Tony was. He had somehow caught a seagull and was listening to it scream in his ear, a look of intense concentration on his face. 

 

He came skipping over to where the men were standing. 

“You know,” he said cheerfully and held up the seagull in the shorter man’s face. “I do believe that this call is high enough to render a man temporarily deaf. I can’t even hear myself think any more.” 

At that point, the seagull screamed. The short man fell backwards of the pier. 

Helena decided to donate some money to a temple. This would take a lot of praying. 

 

…


	25. Oh you poor bastards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony boards a ship. Poor poor ship. Please join me in a moment of silence for the sanity and peace of the crew, which will with no doubt be disrupted forever. Though you may be pirates, we will keep you in our prayers. Woe unto the day you accepted Tony Stark into you midst. Also please forgive us for laughing at his antics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter, or maybe the third, I can't remember, in one day. You're welcome.

Tony was feeling good. Well, he had been punched around a bit but Helena had put stop to that. The small man, whom Tony later had learnt was called Thomps, had been really angry at having a seagull screech straight into his face. Funny that. You’d think a pirate would value a new experience, especially one whom had been on so many adventures. 

 

Tony had said that out loud. For some reason, Thomps seemed to take this even worse, as if Tony was questioning all his heroic claims. At least that was what Tony had thought. He wasn’t sure, since he still hadn’t been able to hear anything. There had been an insistent ringing in his ears ever since he’d caught the seagull. 

 

This was one of the contributing factors to Tony’s happiness. It meant he didn’t have to listen to Thomps scathing remarks. Not that they were particularly clever, but the man’s voice had an annoying quality which grated at the ears. 

 

Tony was lying on his back while the bigger man, aptly nicknamed Timber, was rowing and the older man, called Estan, was steering. This was a feat in itself. The boat was built for two people not four. Tony had discovered this when they’d left. He had waved a silent goodbye to Helena, who’d checked that he had all his stuff and that his backpack was closed of properly and done everything but blow his nose for him. Well, to him the goodbye was silent. He couldn’t hear anything. He’d chattered all the time though, since it seemed like she could still hear him. 

Then they’d climbed into the little boat and pushed of. Tony had considered the tiny space that Thomps had allocated for him to sit on, and thought, ‘to hells with that’. Currently he was stretched out with his head hanging over the edge of the boat, left arm slung across the lap of Thomps, one of his feet on Timber’s shoulder, and his torso somehow wound around the packages that Timber had stowed in the Tiny boat. The pirates had apparently taken this opportunity to restock some supplies. The little boat was brimming with people and luggage, and somehow Tony had found the space to stretch out and relax. 

 

Against his will, Thomps was impressed. He’d spent the first twenty minutes screaming at Tony, but since he was partially deaf himself and had seen Tony listen to the damned gull for several minutes, he knew the boy couldn’t hear him. Also, when they’d gone over that wave and Timber had lost his balance and almost fallen on top of him, Tony had moved like a snake and ended up on the other side of Thomps. All the while looking as relaxed as a kitten in sunshine. Thomps would have been forced to admit it was impressive, if Timber hadn’t fallen on top of him instead. 

 

When they finally rounded the cape and caught sight of the ship, Thomps had formed the opinion that Tony was a sarcastic yet impressively talented little shit. He expressed this opinion to the first mate, Hoover, when they’d climbed aboard and hoisted up the little boat. 

“He’s a sarcastic yet impressively talented little shit.” 

“Thank you, Thomps. Please continue with your duties. We don’t wanna remain anchored longer than necessary.” 

“I’m telling ya, Hoover, that boy’s gonna make your life miserable. You’re the one who got stuck babysitting him, ain’t ya?” The captain’s never liked ya. You’re in for some rough weeks ahead.” 

Thomps chuckled at the thought. 

Hoover looked at the short, skinny youth who’d just climbed aboard. The boy was grinning. 

“Well, at least I won’t be alone in my hour of need.” 

Thomps stopped laughing. “What?” 

“Oh, haven’t you heard? The captain assigned you to aid me in watching over the boy. I am sure you’ll be able to control him, as experienced a sailor as you are.” 

 

Hoover turned away from Thomps increasingly desperate expression and made his way over to the boy. 

“Welcome aboard the Hobgoblin, son. I’m first mate Hoover. Follow my orders and you’ll be tolerably comfortable. Let’s try and make the duration of this voyage passable, shall we?” 

The boy blinked at him and kept on grinning. 

Hoover tried again. “When I speak to you, I’d like you to answer me. Do not pretend ignorance.” 

The boy kept on grinning. Hoover was getting annoyed. 

“Boy! You have a tongue, don’t you? Blast it all, answer me!” 

Tony remained silent. 

“My gods,” Hoover was aghast. “You’re not dumb, are you?” 

 

“He can’t hear you.” 

Hoover turned around. Estan was standing behind him. Before we left he caught a seagull and it screamed into his ear. I think it’ll be half an hour more before he can hear again. 

 

Hoover pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Why, why in all the worlds would anyone, ANYONE, want to catch a seagull. And how. How the hells did he catch a seagull.” 

Estan shrugged. “I think he was bored. As for how, well, I didn’t see it. He’s got to be good though, to pull of something like catching a bird.” 

Hoover pulled himself together. 

“Alright. Think positively. You’re right Estan, he’s gotta be good. All I gotta do is find things for him to do which will keep him from being bored and are useful to us.” Hoover looked up. “Right! There. That’s what I’ll do. This might even be a good thing, right?” 

 

“Right.” Estan shrugged again. “But it’s probably easier said than done finding something that’ll keep his boredom at bay.” 

“Come now, it can’t be THAT difficult. I mean, he’s not a small child. How easily distracted could he be?” 

“Oh, I’d say quite easily distracted indeed. In fact,” Estan threw a glance over Hoover’s shoulder, “I think he got bored while we were standing here talking.” 

 

With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Hoover turned around. Where there should have been a dark-haired youth with tight clothes and a big pack, was in fact, just a big pack. The boy had ditched it and gone off to explore. 

 

“Holy hells.” Hoover pinched the bridge of his nose again. “He doesn’t even take care of his possessions.” 

 

… 

 

Tony’s hearing was slowly coming back. He could hear the wind and the cries of the gulls again. Up here, they were the most prominent noises. Tony had climbed the middle mast. He didn’t know what it was called. He’d never cared about ships, and all the silly words the sailors used for everything.  
But up here, pushed around by the wind, with the blue all around him, it was almost as if he was home. He could taste the salt in the air. He could smeel the life beneath him, in the ocean teeming with life. He knew he’d be lucky here. They’d catch lots of fish and find fair winds the entire voyage. Close to the sea, mermaids were as followed by life and luck as they were with disaster on land.  
Tony closed his eyes and relaxed. The sun on his face made his nose itch. He scrunched it and sneezed. 

“TOONNYYYYY!”A yell came from below.  
Tony scooted over further from the central mast so he could see down the sail. Several sailors had started climbing up. First Tony thought that they were coming to fetch him, but the n he realized that They’d been on their way to release the sails. One of them had recognized him and called out. 

Tony looked around the ship. It was teeming with activity. Men climbed and ran everywhere, shouting and yelling. It looked like an ant heap, with the same sort of organized chaos.  
It Nobody had yet climbed up to Tony, byt the lookout was on his way. People had strated pointing and yelling at him. 

Tony grinned.  
Yeah. This’d be fun. 

 

…


	26. The dramatic return (Alternatively: I don’t know shit about medicine)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky is trying to get Steve clean. It's going bad.  
> Luckily, a savior appears??!

Bucky was close to panicking. Sam could see it clearly. Bucky had been holding up as long as he could, but he was starting to come apart at the seams. Sam felt pretty frayed himself. 

The thing was, they didn’t know what to do. Nobody had any idea how to handle a recovering addict, except for Bucky, but none of the things he’d tried had worked. Steve was getting worse by the minute, and Bucky was getting frantic. 

 

After their escape, they’d travelled for three days. During that time Bucky had kept steadily decreasing Steve’s dose, and when they’d finally reached a safe house, Bucky had decided they’d try to get Steve back to fighting order. That had been four days ago. 

 

The amounts of Brinddle Steve had been given daily was about the amount needed to kill four elephants. At least according to Bucky’s calculations. Of course, with his special body, he’d burned through it and kept working enough to appear awake. The dosage had probably been increased after a while, when Steve’s body got used to it. 

The whole time he’d been fighting it, burning through it faster and faster to try and wake up. 

 

And now Steve had almost burned out. 

The house was a flurry of activity, every available man was running around with medication and towels and buckets and water. 

 

Bucky was currently engaged in trying to put Steve’s head in steam. Sam had looked skeptical, but he kept quite when he saw that Bucky didn’t know what else to do. They’d tried everything Bucky had been able to think of, and started trying ridiculous things in the hope that it might help. 

It hadn’t. To Sam’s horror, tears were starting to well up in Bucky’s eyes. 

Sam put his hands on Bucky’s shoulder. 

“C’mon, don’t give up. He’ll pull through this. We’ll think of something.” 

 

“But Sam, I can’t think of anything. I’ve tried everything, and I don’t know what to do! If he’d been normal he’d be dead since more than a week. This isn’t normal! And I don’t know how to deal with him.” 

Bucky collapsed on the floor, crying in silent desperation. Sam looked around in the room, frustration clear in his face. Eddards had started crying so long ago that he was now starting to run out of tears. He could see that even Sergeant Wilson was fraying at the edges. 

Eddards couldn’t stand it anymore. He ran out of the room. 

 

Half an hour later, Falsworth found him sobbing on the floor by the front door. 

 

“Hey, c’mon. They’ll pull through. They always have. We can rely on them, on ourselves. The Captain won’t die that easily.” 

“But it hasn’t been easy. And he’s really been fighting! And Sarge was crying!” Eddards buried his head in his arms. 

Falsworth sat down next to the youth, and put his arms around him. They were both exhausted, all of them were. They’d been running around for too long, trying to do something that just wasn’t happening. 

Together they sat on the floor, trying to understand that they’d have to give up. That there was no way they’d be able to save Steve. 

 

…

 

There was a knocking on the door. 

Eddards lifted his head from Falsworth’s shoulders, and stared at it. It was in the middle of the night, and no one should know where they were. The mere idea that anybody might want something from their hovel was preposterous. 

 

Mystified, he stood up and went over to the door. 

“Wait.” Falsworth grabbed his leg. He stood up and flowed over to the side of the door. With a flick of his wrist, he had a knife in his hand. He nodded at Eddards. “Now.” 

 

Eddards opened the door. 

 

“Good evening.” Harris looked as impeccable as ever. “I believe Captain Rogers is ill.” 

Eddards stared at him for three seconds. Then he punched him in the face. 

 

… 

 

“I am so so sorry.” Bucky hung his head. “Come on, you too, you damn fool. Apologize.” He pushed Eddards head down. 

“Sorry. But he shouldn’t’a left us. He could have helped.” 

 

This was several hours later. When Harris had recovered his balance he explained he might be able to help captain Rogers with his predicament. Falsworth and Eddards had simultaneously decided to throw caution to the wind, grabbed his arms and towed him upstairs. The speed at which Harris had arrived at the bedroom was really remarkable. 

Harris had taken one look at the scene, the comatose Steve, the frazzled Sam, the crying Bucky, the soldiers running around like headless chickens, and taken charge. 

 

The men had been sent running to fetch whatever he needed. Harris had put down his big brown leather bag and rummaged around in it. He’d pulled out the strangest things, herbs that made Bucky’s eyes water when they crumpled, weird glass bottles, small syringes. There had been strange dried animals, rocks, mysterious powders, mortars and tripods and contrivances with glass lenses. 

Harris had started throwing things into the steam bath Bucky had made, all the while muttering to himself. 

“… and to get him clean can wait, I need to make sure he survives with all his nerves intact, let’s see, if he breathes in the fumes with the noftien, I can have him swallow the sallig without fear of repercussions, and then I can give him the …” 

 

After half an hour he pulled away the steam bath, and held up Steve’s head to force some foul smelling green liquid down his throat. Harris had been brewing more potions than Bucky could imagine, and in the following hours he’d put almost all of them to use. 

 

Now, nearing daybreak, Steve was looking much better. 

And Bucky had made the doctor sit down, rest, and eat something. He’d also apologized for Eddards punch and then forced him to tell them what had happened since he’d left them. 

 

“Well, I knew you felt like you were doing your best in your search for Tony, but I have other … less official channels, which I put to use. So I left. Shortly after that, I saw a change to your search pattern.” 

“The posters and the crazy patrols? Yeah, that wasn’t us.” Bucky didn’t like the insinuation that Harris had been more efficient than they had. And the thought that Harris had channels that Bucky didn’t have was a blow to his professional pride as a conman and wise guy. 

“Indeed. It took me a couple of days, but then came at that same conclusion. Soon after that, I heard rumors that a certain Captain was being confined, and I decided to make your party my priority. If Captain Rogers was being confined, it was most likely with gruesome methods. 

However, you escaped before I could reach you. It took me a while to track you down. Sergeant Barnes, you should be honored. It is very hard to hide from me.” 

Bucky just snorted, clearly not feeling the achievement was worth all that. 

 

“I believe I arrived just in time. You had, however, done an excellent job. Had the drug administration stopped earlier, he would most likely have survived with just your aid.” 

 

Bucky hung his head. “I should have seen it. I should have known that something was wrong. If only I’d been more attentive, Steve wouldn’t have been …” 

“I believe you are wrong.” Harris voice was calm. “You did everything in your power and more. And no one would agree with me more, than the fellow waking up on the bed behind you.” 

 

Bucky swirled around. Sam rose, startled, out of his chair. 

“Hey, fellas.” Steve was groggily blinking his head. “Boy, that was one hell of a punch. How long have I been under?” 

Bucky flew across the room and threw his arms around Steve’s neck. Sam was right at his heels, collapsing next to the bed and simply repeating “… thank gods, thank gods, thank gods, thank gods …” 

Madden poked his head through the door and shouted. “Cap! You’re, you’re alive!” 

Soon the room was filled wth overjoyed men, yelling out their relief and hugging each other. Harris had become the center of a big group who seemed intent on smothering him with gratitude enough to fill the seas. 

 

Finally, after a long time of hugging and random outbursts of dancing, laughter and tears, the room quieted down. 

Sam filled Steve in on everything they’d been through since he went under. 

 

“So, you guys have been busy trying to keep me alive for the last few days. Thank you. I guess I owe all of you a drink.”  
Laughter followed this. 

“Steve.” Bucky leaned forward. “I know you’ve been through a lot, but we need a plan. We’re currently being hunted by the army, and we have no lead on Tony. You’re our Captain, no matter what state you’re in. Please give us your opinion.” 

Steve affectionately ruffled his hair. 

“I’m not the only one who looks like hell. How long were you guys awake, trying to sustain me, really?” 

Bucky stared down at the floor boards. 

“No matter. On the subject of Tony, I want to hear what mister Harris has to say. I woke up early enough to hear him say something about looking into Tony’s disappearance using private sources.” 

 

Harris almost rolled his eyes at this, but every eye in the room turned to him. 

“Very well. I will share my information with you. Please do not ask for anything more than what I can tell you, and please refrain from questioning my intel. I would not share something unless I was 100 % sure of it being true.” 

The men around the room nodded. 

“Good. Now, I did not find out Tony’s location, but I did come across something else. Has anyone of you ever heard of the name of Stark?” 

 

A couple of men nodded, while some looked confused. Sam spoke up. 

“They’re nobility. But the reclusive kind. They’re into business, not politics, which makes some higher circles scorn them. They tread on quite a few toes a couple of years back, when they took control over the entire arms market. They do almost everything, weapons, medicine, tools, construction. You name it, they have some part of it. Recently they started to re-allocate their resources. More useful things, less weapons. Lots of industries have taken leaps ahead thanks to them.  
Of course, not everyone is happy with that. But they’re not so bad, as nobility goes.” 

 

“Good. You know a lot.” Harris nodded. “However, you are only aware of the things they allow the public to see. Have you ever heard of the Stark family itself, after its last leader died?” 

 

“His name was Howard, wasn’t it? My uncle knew him. Went to his funeral.” Gallaver spoke up. 

 

“Yes, Howard was indeed the man’s name. However, after his death, the family seems to have retreated from the public eye. Nowadays, all decisions regarding the Stark industries are passed down through layers and layers of people designed to hide those at the top. 

After quite some digging, I found out the person who drives the business is a certain woman, a miss Virginia ‘Pepper’ Pots. Incredible, certainly, but slightly mystifying. She was not a relative of Howards, yet there would have been a scandal if his heir had not been related to him.” 

Harris leaned backwards in his chair. 

“Now for the interesting part. Are any of you aware of the underworld?” 

 

“Yeah.” Bucky shrugged. “But it’s not like we can easily get into it. Thugs tend to get defensive when they see you work for the government.” 

“Indeed. Yet you are all aware of its existence?” 

The men in the room nodded. 

“Good. Let me explain a bit about it for you. In the world, there are certain, um, big players. Corporations, governments, even certain individuals. Kings, Mafia bosses. They have weight. 

Imagine the worlds as a river, and the big players are the rocks in it. There are certain parts submerged in the murkiness of the water, and certain parts above it. That is how most of the world works. Most corporations have a public side, for the daylight folks, and then an underbelly which only the underworld gets to see. 

Of course, there are big players who never meddle in the underworld, but float like logs on top of it. There are also player completely submerged in the water, never needing to come up for breath. 

Stark Industries is one of those big players. It had a glittering back and a murkier underbelly.” 

 

“Wait, you’re not telling us that Stark are slave traders or something, are you?” Sensa looked scared. 

“No, on the contrary. They are quite strongly against the slave trade. But do you know what the first thing you will hear about the Starks when you ask about them?  
They are mermaid allies.” 

 

Harris looked around the room. It blinked at him, trying to understand. 

 

“Oh, come now. That is quite important information. Out Tony seemed to have a mission, and that might very well have something to do with protecting mermaids. Don’t you see its significance?” 

 

“He’s right.” Sam scratched his head. “We’ll keep an eye out for mermaid information. But only if you can answer this question: Why would Tony have anything to do with the Stark household?” 

 

“Oh, you will be quite pleased with this last bit of information. I actually ran into someone affiliated with the Starks, a man by the name of Beeks. It was quite an accident that I found out who he was, and that he found out about my search for Tony. We had a bit of a run in, in a place neither of us should have been, so we helped each other out and found out a bit about or respective missions. 

 

It took quite a while to convince him, but eventually he acknowledged that I was a friend of Tony’s.” 

Harris looked around the confused faces. With the air of a school girl confiding her crush to a friend, he said: “Did you know? The real owner of the Stark industries and the leader of the Stark household, happens to be a young, slight, dark-haired boy named Anthony Stark.  
Tony, for short.” 

 

There was a moment when the realization sank in. Then the room erupted into chaos. 

 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no experience with drugs or alcohol or rehab or addiction of nay kind. I am also to lazy to google things. So this chapter has no relation to reality at all. Sorry. Hope you still liked it.


	27. Heartwarming reunion (But not the one you’re waiting for)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The men decide what to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sarge Bee is Bucky's nickname. 'Cause he's a Sergeant and his other nickname starts with B.

Steve was petrified. Had he really heard that right? Had Harris really said that Tony was the head of a wealthy noble family? Which was known for being pro mermaid rights? 

All around him, men were shouting, throwing around opinions and questions. Funny, the thing they seemed the most hung up over seemed to be that Tony was a noble. To Steve that made perfect sense. What also made perfect sense was that anybody connected to the Starks would be pro-mermaid, if Tony himself was a mermaid. For the first time since Steve had first seen him in the tiny cellar underneath the inn, Steve felt happy. 

Tony wasn’t entirely helpless. He hadn’t been helpless, even when beaten and pushed down, he’d still kept going strong, but hearing that Tony had allies, and power, made Steve feel incredibly relieved. 

Tony had allies. He’d be safe. 

Steve laughed out loud. 

 

“Um, Steve, buddy? You okay?” Bucky’s face appeared in his field of vision. “’Cause when you laugh out loud like that, it sort of looks like you’ve gone over the edge.” 

“Help me sit up, Buck. Please.” 

Slowly Bucky and Sam propped him up against the wall, under Harris’ guidance. He surveyed the room, properly taking in the room. 

“So, everyone’s here?” The question was hesitant, and Bucky understood. 

“Everyone here are the ones who chose to stay. The people who are missing are those who asked to be assigned to different divisions. No one who chose to stay was lost on the run.” 

 

Steve shut his eyes. Bucky knew he took the news that not everyone had been loyal hard. Steve was undyingly loyal, and expected the same from all others. 

 

“Thanks guys. I can’t believe so many of you stayed. Thank you.” 

Bucky relaxed. Maybe not so hard then. The room thawed a bit, warmed by its commander’s words. 

 

“No worries Cap.”  
“You make fleeing for your life interesting.”  
“Always a new adventure with you at the helm.” 

 

Steve smiled. “I appreciate it, guys.”  
He pushed himself a bit further upright. 

“Now, about the deal with Tony being a noble; is it really so strange? I mean, if he hadn’t had money or connections, don’t you think someone would have slit his throat a lot earlier?” 

Eddards grinned at this. “No Cap, it’s not hard to believe. Tony’s arrogance has to be fuelled by something other than his narcissism. Having tons of money would do it.” 

Steve chuckled.  
“Yeah. That’s true. So let’s look at where we are. Stuck in a house, like fugitives. But from what I’d heard, the order to put me under wasn’t entirely official. We can use that. Tomorrow we go through the papers Bucky got from the camp, see if we can find any evidence. If we do, we can go back to the military. Their resources would be useful. Our primary goal is still to find Tony.  
If only to have him pay for dragging us around on a wild goose chase for ages. Staying in a mansion would be nice. All agreed? We’re still gonna find Tony?” 

 

“Yeah.” Jim stood up. “We still wanna know what a rich noble was doing being beat up in a mountain inn. There are still questions we want answered. Tony’s involved in something. He’s our friend, so we gonna find him and get him out of it. Plus, we miss the kid.” 

“Yes. Sarge Bee isn’t as annoying without him, but we can deal with that.” Meisne pulled Jim back down on the floor. “Having him constantly making noise in some part fo the camp has become a part of our lives. We want Tony back.” 

 

“Alright. We’ll find Tony, if only to figure out what kind of a mess he’s gotten himself into and how to get him out of it.” Silently, Steve prayed that it would be something that they’d be able to help with. 

“So, if we can, we’ll get the army’s backing. If we can prove the drugging took place, with orders from unofficial channels, we’ll be able to do just that. 

Otherwise, we’ll stay out of sight and try to search on our own. With Harris’ help, we might be more efficient. Next time, please include us in our plans.” 

 

“Of course Captain.” Harris smiled. “It might interest you to know that I’ve been keeping in touch with the Stark house. We have a meeting scheduled. Pepper Potts will be waiting in a certain port town in six days time. You’d do well to remember not to call her Virginia.” 

 

“Excellent work, Harris. Alright guys. We stay here one more day. Go to sleep, eat, rest. We’ll go over the plans. We’ll determine wether or not we can get the military’s backing back. How long will it take us to travel to the meeting point?” 

 

“Four days, Captain.” 

 

“Then we’ll split up. Bucky and Sam, you’ll take Dingo, Porter, Falsworth, Eddards, Devons and Gabe. Me and Harris will take Morita, Sensa, Dum Dum, Madden, Meisne, Dernier, Gallaver and Ningon. You will get our backing back. We will travel to the meeting point. In Eight days’ time, we’ll assemble in the port town of Riccons.  
Is everyone with me?” 

 

The men in the room murmured their approval. 

“Good. Now get some sleep, you poor bastards. You look like death.” 

“You’re one to speak Captain!” but the men obediently filed out of the room to get whatever rest they could. 

 

“Bucky.” Steve put his hand on his friends shoulder. “I’m sure corporal Harris can be trusted to look after me. Get some sleep.” 

“But …!” 

“No. The Captain is right.” Sam put his hand on Bucky’s other shoulder. “Leave Steve to Harris. You need some sleep. In the last four days I’ve not seen you more than nap for half an hour here and there. I’m taking you to bed.” 

Before Bucky could protest, Sam had hoisted him to his feet and was dragging him out of the room. 

 

Steve looked after them with fondness. “You know,” he said to Harris, “I sort of feel responsible for those two. I was with them since before they met, you know.” 

 

“Delighted to hear it, Captain. Now please get some rest. In two days we leave. You need to regain as much strength as possible.” 

 

“Yeah. Thanks, Harris.” 

Before he fell asleep, Steve’s last thought went to Tony, hoping he was safe. 

 

…


	28. Steve, Pepper and Clint.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Pepper meet. Clint Appears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Yay. Clint is awesome. I'm gonna enjoy writing about him.  
> Also maybe we can finally get the story moving now.

Pepper drummed her fingers impatiently. She knew they’d showed up well ahead of time, but she was getting tired of waiting. Three times, THREE times had some drunkard tried to hit on her. All of them had ended up on the floor in a very private world of pain, but having to kick in that way was wearing down her heels. 

 

Finally, after more than two hours, a group of hooded men step through the door to the pub. They glanced around the room. Pepper tries to imagine what they must be thinking. They were in a very large, loud, public space. Anyone could have snuck in tonight. 

 

Eventually, one of them spotted her and two of them started to make their way towards her. As they wade through the steaming mess of humans on the floor, several try to warn them when it’s clear where they’re headed. 

 

“Don’t bother lads. That one’s got a kick like a mule.”  
“Hah! That rose’s got thorns. Downed three men already.”  
“The wench aint lookin’ for company, boys. Might as well give up.” 

 

Pepper can’t decide whether she should be annoyed with the crude remarks or gloat because of the impression this will make on the men. 

Before she can think any further, the two men slide in across the opposite side of the table. Some of the men nearby groan, but Pepper ignore them. She knows that their little alcove will soon be forgotten.  
There are booze and willing women. No reason to goad over a stuck-up red-head. 

 

“Gentlemen. Good evening.” Pepper gestures and a barmaid comes running over with three tankards, a terrified grin fixed on her face. 

“Thank you darling. I don’t know about those two, but I’m getting hungry. What can you recommend?” 

“There’s roast pig, ma’am. Or we have some turbot, made specially. The Mistress knows you’re fond of fish, ma’am.” 

“Very good. I’d love some turbot. Gentlemen?” 

 

The two men have removed their hoods. The smaller one is the same man who had wheedled with her to set up this meeting. Sly weasel. 

The taller one surprises her. He’s got a face you would vote for. Someone who inspires trust, with his big blue honest eyes and fair hair. 

Pepper decides immediately that she’ll dislike him. Someone who had that much power simply by being, didn’t sit well with her. She’d never had an easy time leading. According to Mrs. Becker, she was doing a stellar job of it, but it was still hard.  
Pepper resented Steve. 

 

“Three portions of turbot, please.” The little man spoke up. 

Huh. So he was the spokesman. Yet it didn’t seem like the big man was simply there for his muscle. He appeared to relaxed for that. 

 

Pepper dealt with him as she usually did with Tony’s antics. She ignored it. 

 

“So, I’m here. I’m listening. What do you have to say to me?” 

“Well, it’s not so much what we can tell you but what you can tell us.” 

“Oh, really. You drag me out into the middle of nowhere, simply expecting me to tell you what you want.” 

“It would certainly be appreciated.” 

“Don’t play games with me. You want something. What is it, and what can you offer me?” 

“Well, if you’d just …” 

“Harris.” The big blond man put his hand on the table. “Just tell her.” 

The little man shied away, not meeting Pepper’s eyes. 

“Alright. Then I will.” Harris jumped, but before he could say anything, the blond man had turned towards Pepper and opened his mouth. “We want to know about Tony.” 

 

It took about three seconds for Steve to find himself on his back on the floor, straddled by the woman. She was angry. She also had a knife against his throat. 

Steve, very carefully, did not swallow. 

Harris had thrown himself backwards, away from the fray. “Ningon! Stop! Back off.” 

Steve glanced upwards. Frozen, after Harris’ words, were Ningon, and directly after him, Gallaver. Right on either side of them, two men had closed in. They’d stopped as well. Meisne had started towards the door, but someone had tackled him. They were the only ones who had kept moving, falling over and rolling on the floor. In the general din of the inn, which was already halfway towards a brawl already, this went mostly unnoticed. 

He glanced back at the woman on top of him. She looked furious, but she also looked … scared. Ah. Steve knew that look. He’d seen it in the mirror every day after Tony left. 

“You’re not his only allies.” 

“What?” The woman, Pepper, blinked. 

“You’re not the only ones who wish him well.” 

“Wishing never did him much good.” Pepper grabbed onto the only thing she’d understood. 

“I meant, we want to help him. Let us.” 

“I’ll slit your throat in a second, if you make any sudden movements or disobey my orders.” 

“There is no doubt in my mind.” 

 

Pepper nodded and slowly got off Steve. A man hurried up through the throng to her side. They started whispering.  
Eventually she looked down on Steve, who wisely had remained motionless on the floor. 

“You have men stationed outside.” 

It wasn’t a question, but Steve answered it anyway. “Yes.” 

“Order them to withdraw.” 

“Allow the man rolling on the floor over there to go out to them.” 

Pepper nodded. Steve gave a slight wave, and then gestured something to Meisne, who quickly got to his feet and hurried out of the room. 

 

“Now, please get up, Captain Rogers.” 

“Thank you, ma’am.” 

“At least you know your manners.” 

 

… 

 

Several hours later, they were still holed up in an alcove in the back of the bar. 

They had had time to tell Pepper about how they met Tony. She didn’t like it. When Harris had described how the landlord had been treating Tony, her knuckles whitened. 

“He told us about that.” The words came out as a whisper. “But I believe he left some details out. We should have killed the man.” 

Steve gave Harris a look and took over the story. They went over the travelling, Tony’s recovery, his escape, and their own attempts to find him. 

They answered every question as well as they could, and then sat in silence for several minutes while Pepper considered what she’d been told. 

 

“Say I believe your story. What do you want from me?” 

“We want to know where Tony is.” 

“No.” 

“We know he’s in trouble.” 

“That’s none of your business.” 

“He’s our friend.” 

“That’s debatable. You’re not the first people which Tony has cozied up to, to get somewhere.”  
But Pepper was thinking about it. Steve could see it. 

 

“Pepper, please. He needs us. But more than that …” Steve took a deep breath. “We need him. I … need him.” 

Peppers eyes widened in surprise. 

“Steve?” 

Steve twitched. “You know my first name, as well as my last?” 

“No, the rumors don’t mention that, but … Tony did.” 

Steve froze. He sat still as a statue, while he processed this. 

After an eternity, he unfroze, and started breathing again.  
“Tony … talked about me?” 

“Yeah, he …” Pepper was clearly thrown off balance. “He said …. Nevermind. Let’s just say I feel slightly more inclined to believe your story now.” 

“Thank you. But you still can’t tell us?” 

Pepper shook her head. “Give me a minute. I need to think this through.” 

Without another look at them she simply stood up and strode out through an almost hidden door. 

Steve and Harris stared after her. 

 

“Well, captain, I believe that’s the last we’ll see of her tonight.” 

“What?” The captain looked helplessly at Harris. 

“I meant, Captain, that she will see no further need to delay here with us. She has gotten what she need out of us. Whether she will help us or not, she needs not look at us longer. I suggest we rejoin our group. If we pass, someone will most likely approach us.” 

They left. 

 

… 

 

“Steve?” 

Steve looked up. He was sitting in a circle around a fire with his small group. On Harris’ suggestion, they had moved away from the city and stuck camp in a nearby copse. The fire was visible from miles around, but nobody believed that they had any reason to fear attack. 

A grumpy-looking man was leaning above him. 

“I’m Clint.” The grumpy guy sat down. “I heard you were looking for something.” 

 

“Yeah, that’s right. Please.” Steve hastily scooted over. 

The men in the circle gave him suspicious glares, but Clint didn’t seem to mind. 

“D’you have a map?” 

A map was procured and spread out on the ground in front of Clint. 

“Thanks. Anyway, He should be somewhere in this area.” He pointed with a grubby finger on the map. 

There was no doubt who he was referring to. 

“He’s at sea?” Harris seemed surprised, but Steve had somehow expected it. 

 

“Yeah.” Clint shrugged of his coat, and revealed an impressive quiver of arrows. 

“He had to cross it sooner or later. He started out in the middle of the continent and reached the border of Menecoast rather quickly. He made it to the sea, and the only way forward is by boat. He can’t swim there.” 

Clint said it like it wasn’t a joke, but one of the factors which had to be taken into consideration, making Steve wonder a little, but he dismissed it pretty quickly. He’d find out about Tony’s legs when Tony told him. He just had to find Tony first. 

There was no doubt in Steve’s mind that Tony would tell him. 

 

“Where is he headed?” Sensa spoke up for the first time since the inn. Morita put a cautioning hand on his shoulder. “Yu say he’s headed across the sea, but to where? Another continent?” 

“No kid, Tony’s not going far from water anymore. Here.” Clint pointed out a Tiny Island in the other end of Menecoasts great archipelago. “This island. That’s where he’s headed. He’s got a long way to go. And he’s gotta take some detours. We can go some places where he can’t. We might catch up with him if we get to a larger port in three days. This one oughta do. Port Dems.” Clint pointed again. “Two days journey. Can the rest of your team be there?” 

 

Nobody questioned how he knew that all of them weren’t there. 

 

“That’s actually our meeting point. We were gonna meet there in four days. I can’t help but wonder at what pace you travel for it to be two days.” 

“A fast one. We’ll make do. We’ll get there, acquire a ship and supplies, as well as some men to man it. The second they set foot in that city, we depart. Do you still have contacts in the army?” 

“Yes. Of course.” Jacques Dernier looked insulted. 

“Good. We’ll make use of them. Get some sleep. I’m your guide and that means I get to decide when to move. We leave two hours before sunrise.” 

 

Clint moved as if to disappear somewhere, but Steve grabbed his hand. With surprisingly fluid motions Clint twisted out of his grip. 

“Wait. I appreciate that you’re coming with us, and I approve of the plan, but there is one thing more…” 

Clint waited. 

“Well, there was one thing I’ve been wondering about. Tony used to, to carry a small wooden box with him. It seemed very important, yet it was so small. I very much doubt that it contained coins. What was in it?” 

Not a muscle moved on Clint’s face.  
“Unfortunately I do not know.” Steve was pretty damned sure he knew an outrageous lie when he heard it. “I am not a direct member of the Stark household. More of an ally. I also support their cause. I have never met the head, Tony, directly.” 

Without another world he slid off into the night, leaving Steve to stare dumbfounded after him. 

 

…


	29. REAL Hammerheads are actually cute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, boy. Tony just can't catch a break, can he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo many things I want to say about this chapter. But I won't, cause i'll spoil it for you. So instead of reading my rants, enjoy:

There was a hand sliding down Tony’s ass. Tony disapproved of this. 

Tony disapproved of the clammy sweaty hand itself, he disapproved of the way it seemed to lightly shake the whole time, and he disapproved of the man whom the hand belonged to. 

Tony was not happy. 

This was fueled by the fact that this insipid, insistent, irritating wet rag of a hand had been trying to grope his ass for the last three days. Finally, it had cornered him in a position where he couldn’t squirm away. 

The problem was that Tony couldn’t employ his usual mode of attack when dealing with entitled drunk oxygen-wasters. Because the owner of the hand happened to be the Captain of the ship. 

Ergo, Tony was unhappy. 

Really, it was stupid of him to have allowed himself to get caught in this position. Well, nothing for it. He’d just have to endure a little more, and then he could slip away. 

During his time on the ship, Tony had become an expert on slipping away. 

 

… 

 

The passage would take a little over two months. They’d stop three times on the way, since there were lots of less legal ports in those parts of the sea. 

Tony had loved it. 

Hoover had been annoying, sure, but the man soon realized that Tony-left-alone was almost more useful than Tony-not-obeying-your-orders-to-do-the-thin- he-really-wanted-to-do-just-because-you-told-him-to-do-it,-so-instead-he’s-doing-something-that-will-either:-get-him-killed/get-somebody-else-killed/break-the-ship-in-two, and had left him alone. 

Of course, the man had insisted on rules to keep him safe and out of the crew’s way. Tony didn’t mind most of them. The only one he really didn’t like was the way the first mate would tie him to the main mast on a length of rope if he got close to being washed overboard. The damn man had muttered something about being too old to watch a kid topple overboard and drown jus because he didn’t have any brains in his skull, and laid down the law. Every time Tony climbed into the rigging or tried to balance on the side he was tied up to the main mast. Therefore, a lot of the crew had taken to call him doggie, pooch, or woof. 

 

Tony resented them and the stupid names. Well, pooch wasn’t so bad, but that wasn’t important. 

Because Tony had yet to grow fingernails long enough to untie the ridiculously complicated knots Hoover used easily, he’d found that it was easier to remain below deck. As soon he went above, he got distracted by the sea, and before he knew it someone had picked him up and he was tied to the mast with those four hundred knots behind his back which always took him more than half an hour to untie. 

 

At least he’d given Hoover a shock the first time he undid the knots. The man had left him there, fuming. Of course Tony decided that his time would be better employed elsewhere. It took him forever, but he finally got free of the rope and went exploring. He’d found some interesting old part of a motor in the engine room, and had happily gotten immersed. The next morning, when Tony humming and content made his way up from the bowels of the ship, last night’s embarrassing episode completely forgotten, he’d gotten his life’s surprise when he’d stepped into the mess hall and caused the biggest uproar since he tried to tame that white shark when he was three. 

 

It turned out that after a couple of hours, Hoover had returned to untie Tony only to find him missing. Of course, this had kicked of a huge search, with men roaming the decks and calling Tony’s name. No one had found him and they’d been starting to think he’d fallen overboard. 

Hoover had been nearly in tears, but of course he’d never told Tony that. He had, however, after he’d realized that the thing walking into the mess hall looking like it was some oily demon come up from grease hell was actually Tony, hugged the boy till his joints hurt. 

 

After that Hoover had issued orders that anyone who found Tony doing something dangerous he shouldn’t be doing, were free to carry him to the main mast and tie him to it. If you could make knots complicated enough that it took Tony more than twenty minutes to get free, you got an extra apple for dinner. 

Tony had been carried around by more crewmembers than he could count. 

It had been profoundly embarrassing. 

 

So Tony had deemed it wisest to stay out of temptations reach, down in the ships belly, where it’s flaming, dripping murk, kept him happily concealed from any prying eyes, free to take apart and rebuild whatever he wanted. 

 

Tony liked the ship. It was a very old one, from the time when engines had still been used to propeller men across the sea. Nowadays, everyone just got sturdy sails and hired a wind mage. It was easier and cheaper, not to mention that it freed up a lot of resources. 

This ship had the sails and the obligatory wind mage as part of its crew, but it also still had its engine. Tony assumed that when it had been remodeled, it had simply been too expensive to remove the engine entirely, so the majority of it was still there, waiting down in the dark. Tony loved it. 

 

Of course, no respectable Captain would ever have approved of the unnecessary amount of space it took up, no mention of weighing it down. The Hobgoblin would never have made it past any official safety control either. 

But these were pirates. They valued sentimentality. They didn’t subject themselves to any government inspections, and they approved of the extra weight as it gave them more speed when ramming into other ships. 

 

So Tony spent his days climbing around inside the old engine, figuring out how it had worked. This thing called petrol was funny, but incredibly outdated. Electricity was way more exciting. There were so many ways of making it, too! Petrol was made of lizard bones, according to legend. Tony thought that sounded iffy. 

 

… 

 

None of the crew proved a problem for Tony. Most of them stayed out of his way. A lot of them took up betting on whom he would annoy the next. Some of them even became his friends. 

Old Estan could tie such horrible knots that it would take Tony forty minutes to get free. Thomps, whom had been stuck with him from day one, turned out to be wonderfully amusing. Tony loved trying to outdrink him. They shared a lot of flirting tips with each other, though Thomps tips mainly consisted of how to get women to look at you, while Tony was open to approach from either sex. 

Tony had loved it. 

Three blissful weeks, and not a cloud on his horizon. Then he met the Captain. 

 

It had been an accident, really. He’d been heading out of the mess hall and had literally run into the man. 

Captain Justin Hammer. 

Hammerhead, Tony had called him. His crewmates had asked him why he thought Captain Hammer was deserving of a nickname like a shark. Tony had grinned at them. 

“’Cause his eyes are so far apart that he won’t ever see any sense, see?” 

They had laughed about it, but the nickname had stuck. Now whenever someone was stuck on double shifts or late night duty, they’d undoubtedly curse captain Hammerhead, whose eyes were so wide apart he couldn’t see to correct the shifts in front of him. 

 

… 

 

Tony allowed himself to feel glad about the stupid name. It was the only way he could get back at the Captain without fear of repercussions. And Gods, Tony wanted to get back at him. 

Since he’d run face first into the weasel, the man had somehow taken a shine to him. This was incredibly annoying. The man had taken every opportunity to find Tony. And hells, did he have wandering hands or what. Not the good kind either. The kind that made you feel repulsed. 

Tony had managed to hide out in the hold for the most part though, so it hadn’t been too bad. Only once had it been really awful. The captain had found Tony tied to the mast. After harassing some passing crewmate and finding out why, the widest grin had spread across Hammers face. 

“So this is our little guest, hm? I never knew. You didn’t even tell me your name, Tony, you bad boy. Well, since you’ve been breaking our rules so freely, it’s clear that this little punishment has no effect on you. And rules are there for a reason, Tony, you’ve gotta follow them!  
How about you come up to my quarters, huh? And we’ll discuss it man to man.” 

Hammerhead had leaned forward until Tony had been able to smell his horrible breath. 

Luckily, Hammerhead wasn’t too popular with the crew. He was tyrannical; he didn’t honor his promises, and often took a larger share of any bounty than was his by rights.  
He often made horrible decisions and had gotten them arrested or lost money on several occasions. 

Tony, on the other hand, was immensely popular. Someone who was so predictably unpredictable made for spectacular entertainment and betting odds. Plus, Tony was a really likeable person. He seemed to have some puppy-like quality that just appealed to the protective instinct of most people. 

No one had liked the way the Captain had been harassing Tony. So when someone had seen Tony tied up with nowhere to escape to, he’d hurried of to find Estan. 

 

The old man had arrived and without giving a further explanation than that he “ha a need for the boy” had swept Tony right up from under Hammerheads nose. 

When the Captain had tried to get him to go to his cabin, Hoover had covered for him. The punishments were suspended. Everyone agreed that having Tony unable to immediately escape with Hammer on his heels was a bad idea. 

 

…

 

Tony had been incredibly frustrated by the whole situation. Not only did he have to stand those creepy looks whenever he accidentally ran into the Captain, he was causing trouble for Hoover and Thomps. That was not okay. 

 

But Tony was undercover. He was also dependent on the Captains good graces to take him where he needed to go. 

That was about the only reason Tony hadn’t yet kicked Hammer so hard that his nutsack flew up into his throat. 

 

When the opportunity to leave the ship had presented itself, Tony had jumped at it. 

Too bad the Captain had found out and decided to take some time on shore as well. 

Stupid, stupid Hammer. 

 

…


	30. Death In High Heels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear. With, um, HER, involved, we can be certain Hammer won't meet an easy end. Let's just hope she takes a shine to Tony. Otherwise he might be in a whole big heap of trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 30! Yay! Made it so far! Let's see how much longer this will go on.  
> I feel like this merits a celebration of some kind.

Hoover watched Tony shift away, and Hammer wiggling after him, trapping him even further in the corner. They were both seated at the short end of the table, a position which Hammer had pettily held ever since he first entered the room. 

 

They had cast anchor by an uninhabited island well away from any major shipping lanes and regular patrol paths of merchants and navies. They were going to hold an important meeting. 

A couple of years back, their previous captain, a decent bloke by the name of Caldwell, had been swindled out of his ship and crew by the Hammerhead brat. Caldwell had been a good captain, but he had been to easily intimidated. 

Hammer had been some snotty lower aristocratic brat to some lord from somewhere, which he pointed out loudly whenever he had gotten the opportunity. He’d played Caldwell like a child with his impressive documents and names of bluebloods which his father played poker with. Caldwell, poor chap, had eventually surrendered his ship for a modest sum and a piece of land in the center of the continent. 

Hoover shook his head. That was no way for an old sailor to end his life, far away from everything he’d ever known, cut off from the sea, his life blood. 

Hoover wasn’t sure yet why Hammer had wanted to become a pirate. According to hearsay he’d gotten some low-born underage girl pregnant somewhere, or tried to clumsily court someone way above his station. Maybe he was just charmed by the romanticism of the lawless life, in which case he was simply just a brat playing games with people’s lives. 

Hoover, who was one of the only ones aboard the ship who knew how Hammer had become captain, had expertly hid his disgust for the man in front of the crew and Hammer himself. 

 

However, the Hobgoblin wasn’t a normal ship. Of course, the captain wasn’t aware of this. Hammer wasn’t even aware of the real reason they’d come to this island. He simply believed that they’d arrived here to meet and barter with another pirate crew. 

Of course, Hoover COULD have warned him, but the man had never seemed very eager to say neither please, nor thank you, and for men like that Hoover never saw the need to volunteer vital information. 

 

What Hammer hadn’t been aware of when he acquired the ship nor during his reign as captain, was that the pirates had a council, a king, and a codex. 

Since the Hobgoblin was of special interest to the pirate king, it’s captain would have to be examined by a representative of the king. If he didn’t make the cut, well, too bad for the captain. The Hobgoblin would continue sailing as always. 

The captain might find himself pushed overboard in a civil manner some dark night far from land. With a bucket of chum to attract sharks. The pirate king disliked leaving behind possible loose ends. 

 

So tonight was the night that Hammer would undergo his test. He had no idea, of course. Most of the crew knew, in some strange way, that their captain would either become unbearable or simply disappear after this night. There was a strange tension in the air. 

They’d embarked, assembled a big, simple hut to house the meeting, and prepared a roast. During the entire time they’d been working, the crew had said barely anything, save what was needed for communication. It was as if there was a darkness above them. No one wanted to draw more attention than necessary to themselves. 

 

Hammer hadn’t noticed a thing, of course. He’d been to focused on salivating on Tony. 

 

A sigh escaped Hoover. Poor, poor Tony. Hoover had thought it was a good idea, at first, to let the boy ashore. The hut assembled was more for the crews than for any representative. Normally a night ashore, especially one in the company with another crew, was a feast. The captains and people in the know would have assembled aboard the Hobgoblin, where Hammer would have met his judgment. 

Of course, once Hammer found out that Tony was going ashore, he decided he should too. He disregarded all of Hoover’s advice and pleas. 

Now Hoover was stuck with the knowledge that the kid he’d started feeling protective of would be felt up all evening without the power to do anything about it, that Hammer was decidedly not interested in anything but his own fancies, and that the representative would be furious over the change of plans. 

 

… 

 

Tony shifted again. It was almost a physical impossibility of scooting further away from Hammer, but Tony tried anyway. 

If only the man hadn’t forbidden him from moving. “Captain’s escort” was a stupid name for boy toy. The only thing Tony knew he wasn’t able to do if he wanted to stay on the ship was being outright rude or disobeying a direct order. 

Hammer knew this too, and took advantage of it as much as possible. 

 

Tony was distracted from his own private hell, when the men in the room simultaneously rose to their feet. He jerked around, looking for the reason for the commotion, flying to his feet as well. 

A petite, red-headed woman walked in.  
Tony stared. 

 

She reminded him of Pepper. Well, their appearances were completely different, aside from their red hair, but there was something else. She had Pepper’s fierceness. There was something about her which simply screamed to the world ‘touch me and die’. 

She was quite calm. The way that numerous bulky muscled men scrambled out of her way seemed not to faze her. 

 

Suddenly an arm grabbed Tony’s hand and pulled him forcibly back down on the bench. 

“Well, well, well, look who’s finally here. You do know your manners, don’t you? It’s usually impolite to show up late.” 

Tony rolled his eyes. Of course hecking Hammerhead wouldn’t know when to keep his mouth shut. He was too numb to the world to feel the danger emanating from the woman. 

 

Tony suddenly became aware of that the way he sat at Hammer’s side could be misinterpreted to have him as Hammers ally. Tony looked at the woman again, and really really wished that he wasn’t sitting next to the man who’d just stupidly offended her. 

She walked over towards them. Tony realized that if death had a physical form, it would be what was walking towards him now; lightning in high heels. 

 

… 

 

Hoover heard the ill-advised comment, and shut his eyes in terror. Oh gods, not only had the Black Widow herself been sent, she had been insulted. 

Suddenly he realized that this meant that Hammer would most certainly not be allowed to keep the Hobgoblin, and relief flooded through him. 

With Hammer gone, they could find a new captain and continue on with lighter hearts. He just had to make sure that none of the crew got in the Widows way tonight, and then … well, Hammer’s ghost would have to chalk it all up to bad luck, wouldn’t he? 

 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment. Your comments are my lifeblood and sustains my muse. Seriously. I keep her chained up under my bed and she'll starve unless you write something. So make a difference! Save a life! An imaginary one, but still.


	31. “Wet rag” *snorts*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Awesome Nat and Harrassed Tony. Let's see what happens when we throw the two together.

Natasha considered the small man in front of her. Oh, not the one with the dirty light hair, the personality of rotten road kill and the strength of a wet rag. No the other one, the one who was more child than man, with the dark hair and deep eyes. The poor thing had been trying to escape the rag-man’s advances for the past two hours, to no avail. 

Natasha couldn’t really put word son it, but there was something about the boy. Something about the situation was of. Simply walking in through the door she’d been able to tell that Hammer wasn’t the type who should be left in charge of the Hobgoblin, and his rude comment had simply confirmed it. Normally, she would have simply turned around and walked out, not wanting to spend another unnecessary minute in the man’s company, but the uncomfortable man had caught her attention. She’d gotten curious. 

He didn’t fit in with any of his preconceptions. It was clear that the captain was interested in him in that way, and just as clear that the interest was not reciprocated. It was also clear that the crew disapproved not only of their captain, but of the harassment as well. Yet no one stood up to the captain. AS far as Natasha knew, crewmembers had rights. The captain could make their lives sour, sure, but only in the line of normal duties. 

This did not fall in the category of repeated shifts or scrubbing the hull. 

Natasha was mystified. 

 

… 

 

Tony was uncomfortable. Also scared, pissed, and nonplussed. While Hammer had a great deal to do with that, the woman across him did too. She had been staring at him all evening. Normally, Tony would have taken it as a compliment, but the way she looked at him, like she was a viper and a an odd mouse, frightened him. 

Well, rattled him, at least. Tony had been through a lot, and the Widow wasn’t the worst thing he’d seen. She ranked pretty high on his list though. 

 

Suddenly she leaned across the table, and stroked Hammers arm. 

“Well, I’m impressed captain. To think that you’d be able to be so … hands on with the crew while carrying out your duties at the same time. I have to admit, he seems slightly, unoptimistic? Can you really … please, as you should?” 

Tony stared at her. He hadn’t even been aware of Hammer babbling, so focused had he been on her. When Hammer increased his efforts to get as close to Tony as possible, Natasha turned her full stare on Tony. 

He startled. She was challenging him! This, this madwoman was manipulating Hammer by insulting his manhood, just to see what Tony would do. 

He literally squeaked when Hammers hand tried to make it inside the lining of his pants. Okay, this was bad for so many reasons. Not only was it disgusting, if it continued any further, Tony ran the risk of being discovered as a merman. 

Suddenly he realized that Natasha was smiling. That witch! This was not okay. She’d thrown him to the dogs and was now enjoying his death. Tony retaliated. 

 

… 

 

Natasha saw the insulted expression on Tony’s face and knew he’d realized she was testing him. Unbelievably, even while he was under fiercer attack than ever, she saw him take the decision to fight back. 

 

With a move so subtle most would have missed it, Tony kicked the table to the decanter f wine fell over, running into both Hammer’s and Natasha’s laps. Of course, Natasha simply scotched her chair back and raised an eyebrow. Hammer was swearing and jumped up. Across the room, Hoover shut his eyes in dread. 

 

Tony, the boy’s name was Tony, Hammer had addressed him during his curses, was smiling an angelic smile. She smiled back at him, completely ignoring the now shouting Hammer. 

 

When a reluctant crewmember had finally placated Hammer and his petulance had forced the whole party to migrate to the other end of the table. This put Tony, through some skillfull manipulating on his part, on the opposite end of the table. 

Natasha was pleased. He’d stood up to her! He was promising, but more mysterious than ever. She couldn’t help but liking him though. She decided that he’d suffered enough, and that Hammer wouldn’t be allowed to touch him again. 

 

Unfortunately, before she could move on to the enxt stage on her game with Tony, Hammer kicked something under the table. Cursing, he bent down to retrieve it. 

“What the hell is this?!” He came back up with a rugged old rugsack in his fist. Across the table, tony visibly paled. 

 

… 

 

No. This could not be true. He was close to the sea! He should be lucky! This shouldn’t be allowed to happen! 

In his fecking hand Hammer held the bag. He started tugging at the strings, trying to get it open. 

“Captain.” Tony opened his mouth for the first time that evening. “Perhaps we should simply put that away. We are, after all, in the middle of a meeting.” 

 

Hammers face twisted, and he slapped Tony. “Shut up! Why the hells would you dare try to advice me.” 

He got the bag open, and retrieved a strange wooden object. 

“What the hells is this? Some kind of box?” He brought it up in front of his face, but before he could do anything, Tony snatched the box out of his hand. 

Hammer became furious. 

 

… 

 

Natasha didn’t quite understand what had happened. When Hammer found the bag, Tony had changed. A desperation came over him. When he’d grabbed the box, Natasha had been incredulous. From what she’d seen so far, Tony was far more cautious with the captain than that. 

Of course, after that Hammer started shouting at him. Strangely, Tony, who had stumbled and fallen, did not get up. Ths was even stranger. From the way he’d stood up to Natasha, she’d have thought him the type not to back down from anyone. 

Hammer started kicking Tony. Natasha decided this was not acceptable, swiftly stood up, paced over and sliced of Hammers right earlobe. 

 

… 

 

Tony, frozen with fear as Hammer had grabbed the box, unfroze when he heard the man scream. He opened his eyes. The Widow was leaning over him with a concerned expression on her face. Behind her, Hammer was making incomprehensible high-pitched screams and pleading from the right side of his head. He turned and ran. 

Nobody made a move to follow him. 

One of the men the Black Widow had brought with her turned to another. “How big a chance does he have of survival if he escapes the island in one of them rowboats?” 

“Oh, very small indeed. I might go so far as to say it’s abysmal.” 

“But there is a chance?” 

“Hm? Oh yes. He’d have to be the luckiest man on the planet, but with those teeth I doubt it.” 

“Well.” The first man picked up a long curved knife from the table. “Beter go an make sure then.” 

He left the room, following the sounds of Hammer’s screams. 

 

Tony registered all of this, but his attention was still focused on the Widow. He knew he became irrational when it came to the box, but he couldn’t help it. After, what had happened, he became paralyzed with fear when he saw other people holding the box. 

 

“What’s in it?” the Black Widow nodded at the box. 

Tony decided to tell her the truth. “A memento of my mother.” Well. Close to the truth anyway. 

 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the reason that Natasha didn't personally punish Hammer more thoroughly was probably because he was worth about as much as an ant to her. He wasn't worth investing the time and effort in to ascertain he suffered.  
> At least that's what i think. If you have a different opinion, please let me know.


	32. The Inside Joke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony still has bad luck. Which is really weird since he's so close to the sea. But maybe this is good luck in disguise?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THREE DAYS WITH NO UPDATES???!!!!! wHO DOES SHE THINK SHE IS????!!!!! I hear you scream outraged. Don't worry though, I'm still here. Sorry I've been away darlings, I went to another city over the weekend. I didn't have my computer and couldn't write.  
> SOmehow, I have the nagging suspicion that other fanfic authors think that updating every three days is good enough, but I just know you guys can't wait that long, can you?

”So. Your name is Tony.” 

”Yes.” 

”And you’re a traders apprentice.” 

”Whom accidentally got on the wrong ship?” 

“Yeah.” 

 

Natasha sat back and rubbed her face. The frustrating thing was, though Tony answered all her questions, he never volunteered any information. So she had to ask yes or no questions. And he always answered yes. So far she’d gotten thirteen different back stories from him. 

She tried again. 

“So. Tony.” 

“Yeah?” 

“You’re a ships rat?” 

“Oh, yes.” 

“And you’ve been with the crew for a long time?” 

“Forever.” 

 

It was slightly fascinating, the way he spewed out absolutely coherent nonsense without even thinking about it. 

 

Natasha decided that two hours of brainless banter was enough, and poured a cup of water over Tony’s head. 

 

… 

 

Tony was scared. Well, he was relieved. But also scared. After the terrifying woman, Natasha was her name, but Hoover had called her Black Widow, had cut off Hammer, quite literally, the attitude of the crew changed. Tony hadn’t really had the time to think about it, but after tha captain was kicked out the room relaxed, and something that could be called a proper feast was started. People started eating and drinking. 

The woman had walked off after making sure that Tony was still breathing, but just when he thought it was over, Hoover had appeared and dragged him of to god knows where on the ship. The terrifying woman was there. So were a lot of other rather menacing people. Tony was getting tired of the whole routine. It wasn’t his first time in an interrogation chamber, it was just the first time that anyone had tried to interrogate him without chaining him up or beating him. 

He decided to go for “amicable village idiot”. That one always managed to annoy at least three people to death. 

 

To his surprise the woman, Natasha, had played with him forever. He eventually kept his mouth going without any intervention form his mouth at all. It was a pleasant surprise, that he could talk without having to stop thinking about the engine or Hoovers worried look or the next weather anomaly coming up. 

However, not being mentally present in the conversation meant that he was completely unprepared when Natasha poured a glass of water over his head. 

 

… 

 

Nat watched the boy stutter into silence. 

“Good. Are you listening now?” 

She looked around the room. Her men, having been lulled almost into dozing of had started awake again. 

“Listen to me. No-“ 

“Stop. I don’t get you.” Tony glared at her. Showing emotion for the first time. “You try to get answer, but you’re not forcing it. If you want me to volunteer anything though, your buddy acting sucks.” 

Natasha raised an eyebrow. 

“I mean, your hired muscle. If you’re trying to seem nonthreatening, you’re not doing a stellar job of it.” 

“Of course. I forgot you’re not under obligation to answer me.” 

“Working with people who are loyal to you turned you rusty?” Tony seemed almost sympathetic. 

Natasha glared at him. 

“Gentlemen. Please leave us. Mister Tony and me are going to spend a couple of minutes … making friends.” 

The room cleared. 

 

“So. Now you,” Natasha pulled up a chair and sat down directly in front of Tony, “are going to tell me exactly who you are and why you are here, on the Hobgoblin, and HOW you managed to alter their course.” 

“Wow. I bet you don’t have a problem getting dates.” 

“No snark.” 

“Too bad, I’m a Stark.” 

 

The words came out fast, like they were the punchline to a joke he’d heard so often it was ingrained in his brain. 

 

Natasha saw how he froze, how he’d slipped up. Well. Either she was the luckiest person on the planet, or the gods were really smiling on her tonight. Who’d have imagined that the phrase ‘no snark’ would give her this? 

Then again, luck was never to be sneered at. 

 

“A Stark, huh?” 

Tony didn’t move a muscle. His face appeared to have frozen solid. 

Natasha plowed on. “Aren’t the Starks these super-rich way-reclusive-“ 

 

“Yes.” Tony had stood up as soon as she started speaking. “Yes, they are, and I’m a super duper distant relative of them, all I got is the attitude, now, don’t go on about them, I know my relatives, every reunion is a nightmare, you think poor relatives are bad? Belive me, folks trying to sponge money off you are nothing to those who have gold sponges in their bathtubs …” 

He trailed of. Natasha’s glare was starting to unnerve him. 

“You’re rambling, Stark.” Natasha noted how he flinched slightly at his last name.”Nothing you just said was true. You’ve volunteered no information, and now you’re …” 

She stopped. “You don’t like me speaking about your family. I bet you’re actually very close to the family, you might even-“ 

Natasha stopped just in time. 

Tony appeared to be shaking. 

 

“Fine. One slip-up, that’s all it takes. One slip-up, and you people take everything.” 

Natasha smirked. “Working with people who won’t interrogate you make you rusty?” 

“Hahahaha. Hilarious.” Tony pouted. 

 

… 

 

It took ages, but Natasha finally coaxed Tony into revealing enough that she could make the assumption he really was Tony Stark, heir to the Stark empire. 

Once she confirmed whom he was, she simply got out and left. 

 

She walked across the deck to the rail of the ship. She took out a small piece of paper and scribbled a few lines of it. She then attached the note to a disposable transfer spell. Magic might be unpredictable at times, but there was no denying it’s usefulness. The mesaage would reach it’s recipient within an hour, and she could expect a reply by daybreak. 

The note had simply said: 

“I found him. Will make sure he continues his journey uninterrupted. Awaiting further orders. Widow.” 

 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ps. I don't have a beta, and I'm not sure what these mythical creatures really do, but let me know if you'd like to get involved. In writing this stuff, I mean.


	33. Hobgoblin backstory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hoover has a talk with Natasha. Well. He tries to. Maybe it would be more accurate to say that Natasha had a talk with Hoover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nobody picked up on the whole mysterious wibe I gave the Hobgoblin. But in case anyone was wondering, in the back of their heads, what was so special about the stupid ship, here you are.

Hoover was hovering nervously around the entrance to the quarterdeck when Natasha approached him. 

“Miss … um … Widow?” 

“Yes, Hoover?” 

“Tony, is he … he’s a good kid.” 

“Yes, Hoover.” 

“And we don’t want anything to happen to him, so if he could continue with whatever it is that he’s trying to do, we’ll look after him, and not let it prevent us from doing what we should, so …” 

“Hoover.” 

“Yes Ma’am.” 

“You’re a good man. You’ve been the first mate of the Hobgoblin for, what is it, more than twenty years now?” 

“Yes Ma’am.” 

“And before that you were the steward.” 

“Yes Ma’am.” 

“You’ve been on this ship for most of your life. And during your time as steward, not once has the Hobgoblin failed to do what it has been tasked with.” 

“No Ma’am.” Hoover hesitated, but clearly felt something should be added to this, so he simply said “Thank you, Ma’am.” 

 

Natasha turned to face him properly. 

“Hoover, you know what the Hobgoblin is.” 

“Yes Ma’am.” Hoover saw that this time Natasha expected him to elaborate, so he continued. “The Hobgoblin is the pirate kings private loose cannon, a ship whose purpose is to guide history along the right path.” 

“That’s right, Hoover. And how has this been done?” 

“By placing the Hobgoblin under an independent captain ignorant of the Hobgoblins mission.” 

“Yes. And this is good because …?” 

“Because there is no way of tracing the captain back to the pirate king. So no one pays attention to the Hobgoblin.” 

“Very good. Now, how come the Hobgoblin has still been able to carry out its missions though constantly under the care of a captain with a different agenda?” 

“By hiring incompetent, easily manipulated captains and competent, strong-willed first mates.” 

“Good. Now how long has the Hobgoblin been travelling?” 

“Since the days before the first magic war.” 

“Right.” 

“The outcome of which the Hobgoblin helped shape.” 

Natasha nodded. “Yes. Now, do you know how many first mates have been able to keep the ship on the right course for as long as you have? To disregard their own emotions and obligations, and cast down their lives for the Pirate kings purpose?” 

Hoover shook his head. 

“Two. Out of more than fourty first mates, you are the third best. You have never faltered. You have never hesitated. You have simply used your wits to get things done. Now I know you care for the boy, but your feelings are not important in this. If you allow your emotions to control you, you will have to be replaced.” 

Hoover hung his head. He was close to tears. 

 

“You need to keep a clear head if you’re gonna get that boy where he’s going as fast as possible.” 

Hoover’s head snapped up. 

“Wh-what?” 

“I said, your next mission is to get that boy where he wants to go, as soon as possible.” 

 

Hoover floundered. Natasha enjoyed his confusion for a moment before she took pity on him. 

“Tony isn’t simply an ally to the mermaids, Mister Hoover.” 

“Ah.” 

Hoover stilled. 

“So this is the next big fight, is it? The mermaids’ rights? The sirens wailing? We hear them at night, you know.” Hoover’s face set in big grim lines. “The pirate king picks an issue he doesn’t like, and then he fixes it to his satisfaction. But not all pirate kings have been satisfied with enough.” 

Natasha’s face was impassive. “You know we can’t tell you which fight you are fighting. Only that you should win it.” 

“Yes.” Hoover nodded. “I am glad though, if we were to fight for the mermaids. They have been deemed non-people for too long. So Tony is more than simply an ally?” 

Natasha was glad for the change of subject. 

“Yes. Tony isn’t simply associated with the Stark household, he’s the head of it.” 

Hoover didn’t waste any time wondering how she knew, or how she knew what he’d thought he’d known, he simply accepted it and moved on. 

“So. A pretty young noble.” 

“Yes.” 

“Aboard our ship.” 

“Yes.” 

“Working in the hold and being tied up to the mast.” 

There was a smile tugging at the corners of Natasha’s lips, but she remained silent.  
“Yes.” 

“You know, I bet if our former Captain Hammer had ever received even a nod from one of the Stark’s servants he’d have gone through the roof from second hand snobbery.” 

“As you say.” 

Hoover rubbed his chin.  
“I’m not gonna be able to tell the men this am I?” There was a hidden plea hanging on the end of the sentence. 

“I see no reason as why not. If young master Stark was trying to travel incognito, he really should have picked a better disguise.” 

 

“You mean I can tell the men?” 

“Yes.” 

“The pirate king is not gonna be … testy?” 

Natasha smiled at his choice of words. “No.” 

Hoover’s face lit up. “Maybe we’re finally gonna be able to handle him!” 

Natasha hated to bring him down, but no that was a lie, she had nothing against rupturing his bubble. “I doubt it. No amount of teasing in the world could get Tony to back down.” 

Hoovers face fell. 

“But maybe you’ll be able to use it to distract him when he’s aggravated. A hissing cat will always raise its hackles at the biggest annoyance, after all.” 

Hoovers face brightened slightly. 

Natasha decided she found it endearing, the way the man wore his heart on his sleeve. 

 

“One more thing, before we’re done. Tony had a wooden box with him, which he … disliked, hammer touching. Do you know what it contained?” 

“No. Before tonight, I’d never set eyes on it. He must have shoved it away somewhere underneath the deck, but I’m guessing he didn’t want to leave it behind when he left the ship. Probably didn’t feel it was safe with the captain around. Didn’t you ask him about it?” 

“No. I feel … that if you want to be Tony’s friend, you’d do best to leave the little brown box alone.” 

Hoover looked mystified, but Natasha saw no need to give him more than that. 

 

“Now, I’m going to leave you. In the morning, your crew will wake up drunk. There will be no trace of me or anyone who came with me. Hammer will be gone; he will never bother you again. You have one more stop planned, I believe? In the slummiest bar in the port I will place a number of prospective captains. Choose one, and loose the ship and yourself to him in poker. It will not be difficult. He will be unaware of the Hobgoblins purpose, and you have done the same thing before.” 

“What can I tell Tony? And when should we set sail?” 

Natasha flashed him one last smile. “Tell him what you like. I trust your discretion. You can set sail whenever you like. That is, as soon as you’ve found someone brave enough to let Tony out of the cabin.” She gestured back towards the quarterdeck. “He’s been locked in there for about an hour. He ought to be spitting fur balls with annoyance by now.” 

And just like that, She was gone. 

 

Hoover leaned back on the bulwark. “I do believe,” he said, mostly to himself, “that our esteemed Black Widow is a bit of a sadist.” 

 

…


	34. Soldiers at sea … and bam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is finally on his way. And he's happy about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by the simply astounding BLACK_GEAR_026. Give her a big hand, everyone!

Bucky was busy. However, he was grinning while he was working, so Steve figured it was okay to interrupt. Steve really just needed a distraction. The constant up-and-down motion was making him sick. 

“How come you’re fine?” 

Bucky looked up. “Oh, hi Cap. How’s it going?” 

“Better. But I’m still envious of you guys. Honestly, how, why are you fine? I thought you’d get sick riding an ox cart down a drive way?” 

Bucky grinned. “Well Cap, you do know we all had lives before we came together under your command?” 

“Yeah? I mean, we two knew each other when we were kids, but then you went off to go to school and join the army and I didn’t hear from you again.” 

Bucky smiled at the memory. Until you pulled me out of that trench, and shouted me awake so we both survived.” He leaned back. “Ah, happy memories. Those were the days, eh?” 

Steve gave him a withering look. 

“C’mon. You have sea legs. And you know the difference between starboard and port. How come?” 

 

Bucky shifted a bit, and put the material he’d been working with down in his lap. 

“Well Cap, see the thing is … well … we’re the best soldiers there are. Except for our … unruliness, we’re the best damn soldiers in the whole damn country. That’s why we were assigned to you. 

However, um. While the top brass wanted you to have the very best, there were a few men a couple of rungs further down the ladder who believed we should be … punished. Really, they were just bitter about having to let us go without being able to discipline us properly.” 

Bucky cast a glance at Steve but focused on the cloth in his lap. 

“Ever wondered why we were sent off to the mountains so often?” 

Steve continued looking at Bucky, willing him to tell the rest of the story. 

“Well …” Bucky seemed hesitant still, but finally ploughed on. “We were being punished … sort of. It was in the pettiest, most inconsequential way, but still. See, none of us had ever set foot on a mountain before. 

It didn’t matter really, but I guess some men got a sort of … satisfaction from the knowledge that we wouldn’t feel totally at home on our first missions with you. Maybe they were hoping you’d think us useless and ask for a different squad.” 

“I knew you though. I knew you weren’t useless.” Steve tried to reassure Bucky. 

“Yeah, thanks Cap. I know I’m the best damn soldier there is, and I know you know it too, but what I’m trying to say is, most of us were stationed on a ship or spent a period of our lives on a ship before joining you.” 

Steve blinked. 

 

“It’s true!” Bucky threw up his hands in defense. “Really! I mean, Ningon’s a forest person through and through, Falsworth never likes to go too far from a city or road, and Eddards and Sensa, well, they haven’t been around long enough, but the rest of us have all been to sea.  
Me, I joint the navy before it was deemed that I,” Bucky scrunched his nose, “was far too explosive a presence to keep in confined quarters over any lengthier period of time.” 

Steve laughed. “Now, where did that come from?” 

“I know right!” Bucky seemed genuinely outraged. “They just didn’t like me being more skilled than them! Dumb sailors.” 

“Okay, okay!” Steve laughed. “What about the rest of the guys?” 

“Well, Gallaver was actually a captain, until he lost the navy a ship. He was quickly demoted and moved into the infantry. He said the day he was demoted was the best one of his life.” 

At Steve’s raised eyebrows Bucky explained “Well, see, he never did like to order people about. Sometimes I sort of suspect he might have sunk the ship on purpose.” 

“How come? Did he take a more dangerous route or something?” 

“Oh. No. His ship sunk while attached in the harbor, blocking off trade for weeks. Gallaver wouldn’t have done something that could have hurt his men.” 

Steve chuckled. “I’m surprised he wasn’t court martialed.” 

“Apparently he has some connections or something. Anyway, Meisne, Maddens, Dernier and Devons were all a part of the navy before being transferred. Dum Dum and Johnson were apparently working at the docks as, whatever-it-was-called, keeping order or something. I don’t know. Lifting heavy stuff and counting things, or shouting at people, maybe. I wasn’t listening so closely.  
Morita, Dingo and Porter were all recruited from traders. You wouldn’t believe it, but your team is pretty used to the sea already Cap.” 

 

Steve considered this. What with their current situation, this was probably just as good. 

 

… 

 

After their meeting with Miss Potts, they’d gotten back in touch with their superiors. It had been surprisingly easy to get back in favor. Once the situation was accounted for, they’d been promised a ship at the port they’d met up at. Bucky had seemed almost perplexed at this. Three hours after they’d reunited they’d set out. Clint had been pleased, but Steve couldn’t shake the nagging suspicion that something wasn’t right. Well, he’d been seasick almost constantly since they’d set out, so that was probably perfectly reasonable. 

Although Steve hadn’t been able to eat properly for several days, and was still weak form his forced use of narcotics, he was feeling better than he had done in several weeks. 

He was on his way towards Tony. 

 

… 

 

“By the way Bucky …” 

“Hm?” 

“I can’t help but wonder, what are you working on?” 

“Oh this? I’m embroidering, Cap.” 

“Embroidering? Well, sure, but why? And what?” 

“I’m spelling out ‘Property Of B. Barnes’ on this jacket. I don’t want anyone else going thinking they can touch what’s mine.” 

“Very sensible, Buck. But aren’t those letters very … tacky?” 

“Tacky?” 

“I mean, they’re … a screaming hot pink. An almost translucent pink. Where on earth did you get that thread?” 

“Where I get my materials is my business only, Cap.” Bucky smiled. “But you are indeed correct in your observation that this thread is so pink it hurts the eyes.” 

“Bucky.” 

“What?” 

“That’s not your jacket, is it?” 

“No Cap.” 

“That’s Sergeant Wilson’s jacket, isn’t it.” Steve sounded resigned. 

“Indeed, Steve, your remarkable powers of observation never ceases to amaze me. This jacket is, in fact, the property of one Seargeant S. Wilson, as indicated by this little note here on the inside of the collar, look.” Bucky held up the jacket. 

 

Steve wasn’t amused. Or at least he tried not to be. 

“Bucky.” 

“Yes Sir?” 

“You’ve written ‘Property of B. Barnes’ in big pink letters all over the back of Sam’s jacket.” 

“A masterly summary, Steve, old friend.” 

“I take it he doesn’t know about this?” 

Bucky grinned. “Do you think I would still be sitting here if he did?” 

Steve decided not to inquire further. He had long ago decided not to meddle between Bucky and Sam. 

 

… 

 

The next morning, when Sergeant Sam Wilson woke up, he got a nasty shock. His screams of rage could be heard all the way up to the crow’s nest, where Bucky had taken refuge.  
“I love you too babe.” He said fondly, while Sam raged underdeck, calling him all manner of obscenities. 

 

…


	35. Big-ass waves and mermaid physiology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomps gets in trouble. Let's hope everything ends well. Let's really really hope everything ends well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Tony's a mermaid again, yay! I just really love picturing him like that, which is why this particular part fo the story might end up dragging on for a bit. Sorry.  
> If you have a problem with drowning, please be careful when reading. There is some possible drowning here.  
> Also, i don't have the faintest idea of how long exactly a man can stay underwater and not die, so this might just be wildly inaccurate, but let's say Thomps can hold his breath for a really long time.

It was a beautiful day. 

Tony leaned against the railing, and drank in the sun. For the first time since he’d climbed aboard the ship, Tony felt at peace. 

He also felt a crushing melancholy at the sight of the waves, but he pushed it to the back of his mind. He’d spent too long holed up in the hold. He needed the light. 

With Hammer gone, he could really enjoy it. 

 

He knew they’d be picking up a new captain soon. No one seemed too keen on the job, and a ship without a captain was an unlucky thing. He just hoped it would be someone firmly interested in girls only. 

 

The ship was going slow, with half of its sails furled and tied to their booms. The first mate had ordered the nets thrown out. They were going to have fish for dinner. 

Tony liked fish. He was well aware that some nobles sometimes tried to pain mermaids by feeding them those fish that had been kept in the same aquarium. Since the mermaids had been visibly affected by this, it had led to a belief that mermaids and fish were related. 

This wasn’t true. Of course mermaids and fish were different! The difference between fish and fish, for mermaids, was about the same difference between anonymous cows and beloved family pets for humans. No one wants to eat a dog that has been living with you for twenty years. Far too creepy. 

 

No, Tony liked fish. Tasted like home. 

 

… 

 

Thomps was not a happy man. One of the nets had gotten tangled. Really, it was just one stupid net. It wasn’t as though they didn’t have plenty more. But oh no, Mister Prissy-pants with his big fancy hat, Thomps stopped what he was doing to curse Hoover’s name, had to insist that they untangle the damn thing. 

And since Thomps had been in charge of the nets, he was the one sent down to untangle it. 

Apparently they “Couldn’t hoist it up for fear of damaging it” or something equally silly. 

Now Thomps was suspended by a stupid harness, gently swinging back and forth while he tried to untangle the stupid net. Every time he swung back towards the ship, his behind hit the hull with a soft bump. Every time he swung away from the ship, his feet got wet.  
He didn’t like it. 

 

Suddenly, someone aboard the ship shouted. Thomps threw a glance upwards, and saw the kid, Tony, waving at him and pointing towards the sea. 

Thomps looked. A big wave was headed straight for him, and it was too late to climb up. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. The rumbling of the water filled his ears. The wave washed over him. 

 

Though Thomps knew it was coming, it still overwhelmed him. He thrashed about; the net was pushed upwards and over his head, ha was thrown against the hull. Noise, a roaring rumble in his ears, disorienting him. 

 

Then, just as suddenly as it had come, the wave disappeared. 

Thomps was left hanging, blinking against the light. He sneezed, and coughed up a bit of saltwater. Gahh, he hated the burning sensation the water left in his nose. 

 

The kid was shouting and waving above him, but Thomps ignored him. He just wanted to get back up on the ship and get the awful taste out of his mouth. Urgh, the net had gotten tangled in the harness. Great, this day was just getting better and better. 

 

Thomps tried to wrench the net of, but somehow he just managed to get it more firmly tangled round his ears. Maybe if he could get it out of the harness, he could pull it off. 

This proved to be a futile endeavor. Eventually he gave up, and just undid the buckles on the harness. Just the top ones, he wasn’t stupid, he needed the ones on his legs fastened to stay in the damn thing. The shouting from the kid up above grew more frantic, and now other voices joined him. 

Thomps continued ignoring them though. They were the ones who’d gotten him down there. He’d show them he could get back up himself. 

Suddenly the boy slammed his fists against the hull and shouted “THOOOOOMPS!!” so loud Thomps jumped, which was dangerous considering how precariously he was balancing. 

The kid sounded almost frightened though. Really, what could have gotten into him? Thomps looked up at him, and saw the kid pointing out at sea again. Lots of others were gesticulating behind him, but Thomps didn’t spare a second thought for them. The kids pose had been far too familiar. 

With a climbing sense of dread, Thomps turned around, and yep. Wouldn’t you know it. A second big-ass wave, poised right over his head, ready to crash into him. 

Thomps closed his eyes. There was not a chance he could strap himself back into the harness, or climb up in time. He resigned himself to the inevitable. 

 

The wave swept over him. 

 

… 

 

Tony watched in blank terror as the water covered the man. He held his breath, along with the countless members of the crew behind him, as the water receded. No Thomps. Just the long ropes which had been holding the harness, leading down into the water. 

“Bloody hells …” 

Tony jumped, and turned around. Behind him, Hoover was watching, pale-faced. 

 

“He’ll come up, right?” 

“What?” Hoover looked at Tony. 

“He’ll be alright, won’t he? He’s a good swimmer, right?” 

“Believe it or not, son, all pirates can’t swim like fish. I hired him for his counting and his people skills, not his fins. For gods’ sake, pirates stay ON their ships, not in the sea!” 

Hoover spun around and started barking out orders. “Myttef! Get a boat in the water now! I want three men who actually can swim down there as soon as the boat hits the water. Now go!” 

 

Tony looked down in the water. 

The past few weeks rushed through his head. Sure, Thomps had been petty, but never about the important stuff. He’d helped Tony hide from Hammer. He’d even brought Tony food when he’d forgotten to show up at the mess hall. Probably on Hoover’s orders, but still. 

Thomps was a good man. More importantly, he’d been kind to Tony. 

There was no way the boat was gonna make it in time. It had already been more than a minute since Thomps should have resurfaced, and almost five minutes since the wave had crashed over him. It could be too late already.  
Tony didn’t want him to die. 

 

Fuck it, Pepper had said these pirates were old-fashioned. Maybe they wouldn’t auction him of, at least if he could pay them a decent sum himself. 

 

Knowing that all his ancestors were screaming at him, and that everything he’d been taught since he was born had all advised against doing what he’d just decided to do, Tony pulled of his shirt. 

 

Somewhere behind him, with a mother hen’s unerring instinct for danger, Hoover swiveled around, suddenly feeling that he had to find Tony. 

 

Ignoring his instincts and pushing back the certain knowledge of how the elders would chew him out if they could see him now, Tony stepped back, to give himself some space. He then started running. 

 

He cleared the railing in a flying leap. 

 

… 

 

Hoover finally spotted him. There the dumb boy was, walking towards him. No wait, he stopped. He turned around. He’s walking, no he’s running. Towards the railing, and, oh gods, no, not now, “TONY! STOP!” 

Hoover threw himself forward to the surprise of everyone around him, but he was too late, grabbing at empty air. 

 

Tony was already sailing over the edge and into the water. He could hear the distant splash down below. 

 

For a second, he couldn’t move. 

The Hoover unfroze all at once. “Estan!” 

The old man who’d been standing just behind him, jumped. “Yes, Mister Hoover?” he said with a calm voice. 

Hoover had known the man long enough to see the little tells, though. Estan had an almost ashen face. It was hard to tell under the tan, but the man was shaken. 

“Get a boat down there NOW. I don’t care what Myttef says, you’re the best boatman we have, and if he tries to wave his authority around you have my permission to shove him overboard too.” Hoover was breathing heavily. 

Estan saluted. “Yeah. Sir.” He walked of. 

 

Hoover stalked over the railing and stared down into the waves, searching for even the smallest hint of Tony and Thomps. 

 

… 

 

Tony flew. He had a moment of panic, but then he hit the waves, and OH. 

For just a second, he allowed himself to feel at home. To taste the salt and feel all the microscopic currents against his skin.  
Oh, it was marvelous. For just a second, half a moment, the tiniest fraction of time, Tony WAS home. 

 

Then he shook it off. He had to find Thomps.  
The water was cloudy though, not good for searching with your eyes. With a sigh, Tony reached up and teased open the gills behind his ears. When they were closed, they were practically invisible, partially hidden beneath his hair. He could still breathe underwater with them closed, but with them open, he could feel every miniscule change in the water around him. 

He kept still, and tried to feel the objects around him. 

 

Let’s see. Behind him there was a great big block. That must be the ship, pushing the water away. Okay. The nets were all around him, he’d have to take care not to get caught in them. There! Slightly to the left in front of him, that must be Thomps. 

He opened his eyes and surged forward. Yes! The could see an arm, but what the- 

Oh. The stupid man. When the wave had washed over him, he’d been pulled down. His legs had still been, was still attached to the harness though, so he couldn’t really swim away from the ship. 

But why hadn’t he pulled himself up, he must’ve- shit. His arms had gotten tangled in the net. The poor fool had gotten stuck upside down with his legs in the harness and his arms wrapped in the net which had been dragging him down. 

 

Tony swore and kicked on. But his stupid damn trousers held him back, the material heavy, and Thomps needed to breathe NOW, needed to have the water pushed out of his lungs NOW, and he couldn’t lose any more time. Tony kicked of his pants. 

He had a vague notion that he was gonna regret that, but he sped up, the familiar motions coming back to him. He was at Thomps side in an instant. 

 

The dumb man was tangled hopelessly in the net. He must have struggled to get this firmly stuck. Tony heaved a mental sigh, but, well. If he’d already exposed his legs and fins, he might at well go all the way. 

He opened his mouth, and scratched away some sort of mold. They were strange things, like fake teeth, but thinner, designed to be put on already existing teeth. Like crowns, molded together. 

With them, his mouth looked normal. Without them, he had noticeable fangs. He couldn’t afford to lose them though, so he tangled them in his hair, trusting the knots in his hair to get them stuck. 

He knew they wouldn’t drift away. He’d often kept things in his hair when swimming longer distances. 

 

He opened his mouth and started gnawing. 

 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to all my regular commenters. You know who you are!  
> Ily.


	36. Estan’s in-depth chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yay! We find out what happens to Thomps! Hooray! I was getting worried. Keep your fingers crossed that he'll recover. But now Tony finds himself in trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha! Second chapter in a night. As an apology for taking so long with the last one. If I'm ramlbing, I apologize. I probably shouldn't write these things on three hours of sleep.

Tony’s jaws were hurting, when he finally chewed through the last strings. 

The net fell away below them. Tony heaved a sigh of relief, and started to undo the buckles on Thomps’ legs. It was easy, after the stupid net. 

Soon Thomps floated freely. Tony tried not to look at him. He couldn’t think about what would happen if he was too late. 

A tingling motion through his gills alerted Tony. Oh, the small rowboat had finally hid the waves. He checked the direction, and then set off. 

 

… 

 

Estan didn’t like it. If Thomps had been caught in something or hit his head or something, then that was understandable, but for Tony to disappear in open water as well, that was just plain strange. 

The old man shuddered. He remembered all the stories he’d been told as a kid, about sea monsters and underwater witches who pulled down men to their doom. 

Estan was old. He’d learned to respect what others thought of as silly superstitions. 

He stiffened. There was a shadow in the water. Offering up a silent prayer to whichever gods might be listening; Estan leaned out over the edge. 

 

Splash!  
The shadow exploded, covering Estan in saltwater. He coughed, but kept his eyes open. 

It was Tony. 

Moreover, it was Tony holding on to an unconscious Thomps. Estan didn’t give himself time to register any more details before he shouted, and grabbed the collar of Thomps jacket and heaved. 

The two behind him in the boat, two guys called Pitt and Cush, started moving too. Cush was quickly behind him, helping him maneuver Thomps to the back end of the boat, Pitt moved to the front to keep the vessel stable. Estan and Cush left the oars to him, and they heaved. Tony helped as well as he could from below. 

 

… 

 

Tony didn’t relax until Thomps was safely aboard. 

There. He’d done his part. He’d leave the rest up to the people who knew what they were doing. He sank beneath the waves again, satisfied that nobody was watching him. He took stock of himself. 

Well, though Thomps was probably balancing on the edge of life and death, Tony’s situation didn’t look a lot better. 

Let’s see. The first thing he did was put back his fake teeth. He didn’t like the way they felt. They made his mouth feel too small. 

Okay. That was done. Now for the gills. They were a bit more difficult. He spun around and started swimming downwards. He really shouldn’t spend to long down here, but he needed some … Ah!  
There. For once, he was lucky. The water was shallow here, only around 20 fathoms. He’d found a likely looking boulder already. 

His questioning fingers found what they were looking for, and he smiled. He’d sort of known they were there, his gills could pick up at least that much, but it was nice to be right. 

 

Okay, now he just needed to get back up a bit. Sealing his gills when the water pressure was to high was never a good idea. It’d look fine down in the deep, but when he returned to the surface, his gills would …bloat. There was no way around it. It was embarrassing, but his gills were basically membranes over empty space. If the pressure wasn’t kept even, they’d inflate and deflate in the most mortifying way. 

There. He stopped just under the boat. This close to the surface shouldn’t make a difference to aboard the ship. 

He carefully wrung the seaweed he’d picked up. The leaves let out a soft clear jelly that clung to any surface and became invisible when dry. His fingers were soon coated with the stuff. Carefully he then coated the edges of his gills and pressed them against his skin. 

Okay, done. Of course, once the jelly dried completely, it’d scrape off, but by then his gills would stay in place by themselves. 

 

With his head and face settled, Tony looked down on his legs. Dammit. 

There was no way they wouldn’t be noticed. 

Well, of course someone had laughed at how he never took his pants off, but after Hammer no one had questioned it again. No one generally paid much attention to his legs. They’d have to now. Legs shouldn’t sparkle. 

True, underwater they were the perfect camouflage. Silvery and reflective, they’d hide him perfectly at almost any depth and type of sea. They still looked lovely though. Only less … noticeable. 

Tony sighed. Mermaids hadn’t evolved to live on land. Trust him to get the short end of the stick and have to lug around the inconveniences. To top it off, his scales were a particularly noticeable hue, a shimmering reddish gold. 

 

Above him, a second boat suddenly hit the waves. Tony shook himself. How long had he been underwater? They must be crazy with worry by now. Hoover would be picking ‘em to pieces. Shit. Stupid Thomps. The dumbass shouldn’t ever have let himself get caught like that. He was gonna choke the bastard next time they saw each other.  
Tony hoped he was alright. 

 

Well, that wasn’t important right now. Well, it was, but there was nothing Tony could do about it, so he’d just have to deal with his own situation. Okay. He couldn’t cover himself in mud. Well, he could try, but it’d come off easily and it’d take time, and besides, he didn’t have any mud at hand. His pants were long gone into the depths. Maybe he could scourge the bottom and find them, but- no, that’d be impossible. They had exactly the same colour as mud. Unless he wanted to drag his hands along fifty square miles of seafloor, there was no guarantee he’d find them.  
Maybe he could sneak away! 

Yeah, that’d work. He could find some cliff or something, and cling to them. Then he’d be able to attract the pirates’ attention, and simply claim he’d been waving at them the entire time. That’d even give him time to roll in some mud. Yeah! He could do this! Now if he could just- 

Unfortunately for Tony, someone decided that he’d been down there long enough, and jumped in after him. 

Damn. 

 

… 

 

Estan sighed. They’d revived Thomps. Well, started his breathing. He still looked like a corpse. He’d already been hoisted aboard the ship, with great difficultly; the man had liked food far too much, in Estan’s opinion.  
Of course the old man hadn’t helped in pulling him up. Oh no, there were other men for that. Estan had the very important task of leaning back with his pipe and telling them when they weren’t putting enough back into it, or when Thomps hung unevenly. 

 

Now all they could do was hope that he hadn’t suffered any brain damage. Not that it’d make much difference, in Estan’s opinion. The fool already talked as if he had no brain. The old man wasn’t too worried. 

 

Around that time, someone looked around for Tony. Everyone had seen him coming up with Thomps, so no one was too worried. He was probably paddling around in the water still, fuming about how nobody had treated him like the hero he clearly was. 

Only he wasn’t. Tony wasn’t paddling in the water. Tony wasn’t anywhere. He hadn’t climbed aboard the ship. He wasn’t clinging to any of the boats. He wasn’t anywhere. 

At this point in time, Hoover gave up and allowed the crew to throw down the anchor. They tied up the sails and Hoover allowed any man not needed to keep the ship upright to search for Tony. 

 

Estan wasn’t surprised by the rush. He knew, although it seemed that Hoover had not, that the crew loved Tony almost as much as Hoover did. 

Soon a second boat was lowered, and a third was being prepared. 

Estan, calmly puffing his pipe was, however, surprised when Myttef grabbed him. 

 

The younger man, who seemed agitated to the point of eruption, yelled something in his face. Estan tried to concentrate, but then the damn idiot started shaking him. 

“Why the hells are you so calm, huh? You think this isn’t bad? First we lose one man, and now we lose another! Why the crows are you just sitting there, like you’re not concerned!” 

 

“Calm down.” Estan tried reason. “Of course it’s bad. But Tony can swim. We all saw that. He’ll be fine.” 

Myttef’s face grew redder. Well then. Looks like he didn’t take to well to reason. Estan decided to try his next tactic, which would involve clobbering the fool over the ear. 

Before he could take any such measures though, Myttef reached soe internal breaking point, yelled “Well, let’ see you swim then, old man!” and pushed him overboard. 

 

That was uncalled for, was Estan’s last thought before the water covered his eyes. 

The water was cold. Estan forced his eyes open. Above him, the bottom of the boat shadowed out the light. Below him, darkness. No, not all darkness. One white spot. 

Ah, Estan thought, and smiled. Tony. 

 

… 

 

Tony couldn’t believe it. He’d actually got things going for him. He’d saved Thomps. He’d found the damned seaweed he needed. He’d thought of a solution to the whole no-pants problem. 

And now here was Estan, floating in his face, staring right at him. 

Any other mermaid would have had three options. Flee. That was a good one. Tried out and tested. OR, or, he could drown the old man and stick to the original plan. Lastly, he could just give up and show the man his legs. There is only so much fight you can put up. 

Now, Tony wasn’t an ordinary merman. Plus, he was on this stupid deadly important quest. So the first option wasn’t open to him. The second choice wasn’t really a possibility. At all. Not up for discussion. The old men back home could gnaw through their staffs if they wanted to, Tony wasn’t drowning anyone. 

So, he gave up. He’d been fighting for weeks. Against everything and everyone. There is only so much mettle in a man. 

 

Besides, he had sort of wanted to surprise someone with his legs for a while. He hadn’t been allowed to do that since Pepper, and boy, had her face been memorable. Tony had tried to describe it to an artist afterwards. The recreation hadn’t been half as good as his memory. 

 

To his great annoyance, Estan’s poker face didn’t crumble. The old man did seem shocked though. Tony counted it as a victory. Sure, he’d probably be killed for it, but a victory nonetheless. 

The old man held out his hand, with one finger. Tony knew that gesture. That was Pepper’s “No-Tony-don’t-talk-to-me-I’m-trying-to-do-things-just-wait-a-bit-and-give-me-a-moment”-sign. Okay then. He’d wait a bit. 

 

Idly Ton wondered if maybe he’d swallowed some of that gel form the seaweed earlier. It had been known to cause “unstable emotional responses” in some folks. 

Nah. He was probably just slowly starting to slide into insanity, ‘cause he felt content to just hang there, with nowhere to fall to, waiting for the nets and hooks to come fish him up. 

 

Estan had made his way to the boat. Okay then. He’d stuck his head out of the water. Was probably tellin’ ‘em about how traitorous Tony was a merman, and should be sold off in little pieces. Good for him. That’d prob’ly earn him a bonus at the next tally, or somethin’. Tony closed his eyes and hung. 

 

… 

 

Estan grabbed the edge of the boat and heaved himself up. The old man didn’t look it, but he’d been working at sea all his life, and under that baggy shirt and quite impressive beard, he still had muscles. 

“Ey.” 

“Whaa!!” The man right next to him jumped up, almost toppling the boat. 

“Sit down stupid. Give me your pants.” 

“Wh- wha?” the man scrambled for a hold on sanity. “Why?” 

“Don’t ask questions dumbo. What’s ya name?” 

“Gus, Sir. Why do you need my pants?” 

“Alright, Gus.” Estan noted with satisfaction the Sir. He could still inspire respect when needed. Even soaked through and hanging from a boat. “I don’t need specifically your pants. I need A pair of pants, but I need them now. If you don’t want to strip, subdue someone up there with you and give me their pants.” 

 

The youth could do it, Estan thought. He was almost as well built as Estan had been when young. 

“I, I don’t wanna-“ 

“Get in trouble? Is there a man named Myttef up there with you?” 

“Yeah, Sir, but he’s being chewed out by the first mate right now Sir, for throwing you overboard. Should I tell them you’re alright?” 

“No, get me a pair of pants first. And with first I mean NOW. Then you can go tell them I’ll be coming up with Tony soon.” 

Gus nodded. Apparently not wanting to attack anyone else, he stripped of his own trousers and handed them to Estan. 

The old man wrapped them around his arm, took a deep breath, and dove back down again. 

 

He saw Tony immediately. The boy hadn’t moved an inch. He almost had a heart attack, seeing Tony’s closed eyes and thinking the boy was dead, but when he finally got down to the kid and touched his arm, Tony’s eyes snapped open. 

He seemed disoriented and unable to focus on things. It didn’t seem like he’d be able to to anything as coordinated as putting on pants underwater. Sigh. 

 

Estan thought that if anyone had told him a week back that he’d be wrestling underwater to put some breeches on a mermaid, he’d have laughed at them. Really, how did he get to such a point in his life? He must have offended some sea god somewhere. 

Estan had to go up for air twice before Tony’s legs were covered to his satisfaction. When he was finally done, he hitched a grip under the kid’s arms and started striking for the surface. 

 

… 

 

When Estan surfaced with Tony, Hoover thought the kid had to be dead. 

There were eight big boats and several small dinghys in the water now, every damn boat they had, and if they’d had any more those would probably have been put down as well. The afternoon was well gone, they’d been looking for ever, and no one could have survived for that long. 

But then Estan waved. Hoovers boat was the first to reach him. 

 

Once they’d got a firm grip on Tony, Estan moved as if t swim back and give them space, but Hoover reached down and grabbed his shoulder firmly. Oh no. That’s how Tony disappeared. You climb in first, and then we’ll hoist up the boy. Estan grinned, and pulled himself up, water sloshing from his clothes. 

 

The old man limbered over to the other end of the boat, which was now uncomfortably crowded. 

The boats needed a minimum of three men. Technically one very strong man could propel them, but usually four were needed to make them go at any speed. They had nocks for a small mast, but there was no space for one now. Currently there were around twenty men in the boat. This meant that crewmembers were just about spilling over the sides. Luckily another boat reached them then. This one only carried fifteen men, and after some scrambling, some men were pushed over to make space for Tony. 

With three men crowding the back of the boat and a firm grip on his arms, Tony was hauled aboard. 

 

He seemed conscious, but unfocused, as if he didn’t know what was happening. He was also horribly cold. And he had those baggy pants that Estan must have put on him on. Hoover shot Estan a look, but the old man simply shook his head and turned towards the ship. 

Not here, he seemed to say. Leave it alone for now. 

So Hoover did. 

 

“Hey! Get back you bloody idiots! What do you think you’re doing, crowding around him like that! Godsdammit, Smill! You know what to do. Turn him over and wrap him up. We’re going back aboard.” 

 

… 

 

After much fussing and unnecessary trouble caused by about twenty people volunteering to climb up with Tony, and getting offended when they weren’t picked, Gus, still pantless, was chosen to climb up, watched with anxious eyes, he got Tony aboard. 

After that the kid was hurried downstairs, just like Thomps had been. 

Gus didn’t know what happened to Tony after that. He was worried about him, sure, he liked Tony. Everyone liked tony. That was the trouble. He had a feeling that if he’d handled Tony roughly during the ascent, he’d probably have been lynched. 

He might be lynched anyway. He’d gotten more dirty stares for carrying Tony than he’d ever gotten for screwing up while on duty. 

It was making him nervous. 

 

Gus soon got swept up in the havoc though, as the men hosted up the four small boats, raised the anchor and just in general got ready to keep on sailing. The men slowly returned to their duties, those who needed to take the night shift going below to get some sleep, the cooks returning to the galley, and life started to slowly return to normal. 

 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ps. This is for ANYONE who has ever left a comment, and for all those who might leave comments in the future. Ily too.


	37. Unexpected ‘assault’ of a Weasel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony wakes up. And realizes that just because he's always expecting the worst it doesn't have to always happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is nothing you need to know to prepare you for this chapter. So no notes.

Tony woke up. Or maybe he came to. He seemed to have been awake for quite some time. Ouch. Yep. He had definitely swallowed some of the gel from before. That had to be why he’d been so out of it. Funny how it took some time to knock him out, though. He’d be more careful next time. 

He took stock of his surroundings. He appeared to be back onboard. In one of the cabins, to be precise. Huh. He’d never been in here before. It was a lot bigger than the small spaces he was used to. Tony quickly went through his mental checklist of places on the ship where he hadn’t been yet. 

Let’s see, he’d snuck up on the bridge last week, just because Hoover had told him not to. They wouldn’t keep a bed on the bridge, either. Hm, he’d been in almost all of the officers’ cabins, if only to hide wet seaweed in their cots. The deck where the sailors slept was simultaneously bigger and more crowded than this. They all had hammocks, too. 

Oh. The only place he’d been avoiding like the plague since he’d stepped aboard had been the Captain’s cabin. With Hammer, it would have been suicide. Without Hammer, it still made him feel queasy. 

He wondered why they hadn’t brought him here instead of to the sickbay. 

 

Tony slowly became aware of soft voices nearby. Oh. The room was divided in two by a big curtain. What he’d thought was a wall was, in fact, not a wall at all. Okay. This part of the cabin contained the bed Tony was currently lying on, a big wardrobe built into the wall, and some kind of dresser with a big mirror. Hammer had apparently been as vain as he looked. 

Then the other part must contain a writing desk and chairs and a table, or something. Hammer had been keen on inviting certain crewmembers to his quarters for dinner. And every Captain needed a desk. 

 

Okay. Location and surroundings figured out, Tony tried to listen to the voices. They got clearer. Tony realized this was because they were getting closer. 

The curtain was swept aside, and Hoover appeared in his field of vision. 

“Hello there, Tony. Are you with us now?” 

Tony tried to speak, to say: “Yes. Yes, I’m with you.” But he couldn’t get the words out right. 

“Hush, there. Hang on kid, don’t get agitated. I can see you looking at me. You’re obviously a lot clearer in the head than you were half an hour ago. Just a little more, and I think you’ll be able speak normally. Might be a day or two before you can walk straight again, though.” 

Hoover sat down on the bed next to Tony.  
“Good gods, though, you must have swallowed something awful. Don’t you know the closest island boasts a hospital for magical injuries?” 

Tony stilled at this. 

“Yeah,” Hoover continued, “they dump their excess magic and waste directly into the sea here. Extremely illegal, of course, but they’re the only magic hospital in these waters, and there’re no settlements close by, so they mostly get away with it. The fishermen don’t come here anymore though.” 

 

Hoover noticed Tony’s panicky expression.  
“Relax! Relax kid, its fine. You know our weather magician, Weasel? Yeah, well, you could say he’s a jack of all trades but a master of none.” 

Tony still seemed confused. 

“I meant that the reason we keep him on, even though he’s by far not the best wind mage available, is that he’s good for a lot of stuff besides weather magic. Including potions, magic creatures and healing. You’d be surprised at how useful this guy is.” 

Hoover waved towards the corner of the room, where another man was standing. He’d been so quite though, Tony hadn’t noticed him. 

 

“Yeah, um.” The mage gulped and tried again. “Yeah. I, um took a sample of the water. And there was some white stuff behind your, um, ears. On your, um. Your …” He trailed of, clearly pained. 

“Gills.” Hoover filled in. “We know you’re a mermaid, Tony, which is great, because if you hadn’t been there, Thomps would definitely be dead.” 

Hoover quickly put a hand on Tony’s shoulder when he noticed the panic.  
“We’re not gonna sell you! Settle, for gods’ sake. Listen to the man.” 

“Um, yeah. Right. Selling you would, sorta, um, g-go against what we’re tryina d-do, but …” Weasel trailed of under Hoover’s angry stare. “Maybe I should just, um, tell you ‘bout what I found.”  
Weasel retread to a small stool, and looked to Hoover for permission. Then he continued. “Basically, you were, um, very lucky. I didn’t find anything but numbing agents and sleeping potions in the water. The stuff you had on your, um, eh, g-gills though, that threw me off. It worked with the stuff in the water and made you, um, tipsy. If you’re experiencing any moodswings, then it’s probably the effect of the jell, amplified by the magic residue.” 

He laughed nervously. “I didn’t understand what you were doing with the stuff, but then I found out if was good for sealing letters, so um, you must’ve been trying to hide your gills. Which, um, is k-kinda, a, um, shame. You know. ‘Cause, um, they’re kinda, kinda cool.” 

 

Tony stared. Okay. This was new. He appreciated it, but there really was a lot to take in. 

Hoover seemed to understand him. 

“It’s okay Tony, relax. I’ll explain. Weasel here’ll go and get you something warm from the galley, for you, when you get back the feeling in your lips.” Hoover snorted, and Tony realized with annoyance that he was probably making ridiculous faces while trying to talk. 

Weasel left the room with reluctance, casting long looks over his shoulder before finally shutting the door. 

“Ah, don’t worry about that guy. He’s fascinated with magical creatures. You know, he once held us up for three days while chasing some butterfly all over a rocky cliff. He claimed it might have been a fairy. He also claimed that it was too dry to make the wind favorable, but then it started raining and the weaseling bastard had to give in and make us move on.” 

Hoover moved over to the stool Weasel had just left, so that Tony could see him better. 

“You’ve been knocked out for about a day. Well, I say knocked out, but you’ve been babbling. If we hadn’t shut you away from the rest, I suspect your comrades would have had a lot to tease you about. You moaned quite a bit.

Oh, Thomps is fine by the way. We were a bit worried, but we think the numbing stuff in the water worked in his favor. He woke up and started cursing a couple of hours ago. Estan’s with him now, to prevent the idiot from babbling about the ‘beautiful mermaid princess who came to save him’.” The sarcasm was evident in Hoover’s voice, but there was a twinkle in his eye, as if he found the whole ordeal extremely amusing. 

“With your permission, I’d like to tell him you were the ‘mermaid princess’. I would very much like to see how he takes it, that his beautiful savior is the same oily, foul-smelling scruff he usually fights with over pieces of bread.” 

 

Tony groaned. He was able to move his head without seeing small green parsnips dancing around, so he figured the effect of the poison must be receding. 

“Um. Good. Let’s see if we can get you seated, shall we?” Hoover pushed up some pillows, and then grabbed Tony’s shoulders and pulled him up. 

“There. You’re not falling over, at least. When you can speak without gagging, let me know.  
The majority of the crew doesn’t know you’re a mermaid, by the way. We decided that was your secret to reveal, if you want to. I’d have appreciated knowing, though. Might have kept me from worrying when you spent all that time underwater. I have never been so glad to hear anything as I was when Estan told me you were alive.” 

This was said without flair, as if Hoover had just told him what he’d had for breakfast. Tony couldn’t help but be astounded. This was almost the way that Pepper acted around him. A warm lump started forming somewhere in the pit of his stomach, and his face felt hot. 

Hoover, acting like he hadn’t just turned Tony’s world upside down with the implication that he could be cared for, even here, and the indirect promise that the journey could continue, emptied his pipe. 

He also pretended not to notice the tears that were starting to form in the corner of Tony’s eyes. 

 

“I think that’s it for now. Oh, yeah. One more thing. The ones who know are me, Estan, and Weasel. But, well, I’d advise you to tell the crew on your own terms. Weasel has about as much ability to keep his mouth shut as fish can climb trees.” 

“There’s. Actu’lly a kinda fish that. Climbs trees. ‘s true.” Tony stumbled over the words, but had finally gotten back the use of his tongue. He grinned. 

“The first thing that comes out of your otuh is cheek. I oughta know better than to expect anything else by now.” Hoover shook his head. “But I mean it. Weasels lips flap like sails in the wind. Not because he’s mean, or stupid, he just gets … distracted. When he finds something fascinating,” Hoover gestured to Tony’s legs, “he can’t shut up about it. Usually he’s on about how a species of frog might have evolved in a high-magic environment, so folks tend not to listen to him, but now everyone wants to know what happened to you, and actually pay attention. And he’ll forget he’s supposed to keep it a secret, in the excitement over getting to share his interests.” 

He stood up and patted Tony’s head. “We’re keeping a steady course. We’ll get you where you wanted to go on time. You being a mermaid doesn’t change a thing.” 

He ruffled Tony’s hair, and then walked out of the room. He paused in the doorway. 

“Weasel will be up son with some soup or something. Eat it. You’ll probably have to suffer through some very personal questions, too. The man is hopeless. But I’d rather have him here pestering you than bubbling with excitement amongst the men.  
Oh, yeah, Gus came along earlier and left your old sea sack in the corner there. It contains that cube you’re so careful with. You’ll stay in this cabin for a while. And Tony?  
You know you’re part of the crew now, right?” 

Then Hoover closed the door behind him. 

 

Wow. Well. Tony took a moment to rub his eyes clear. He couldn’t stand having them clogged up with tears. Fogged his vision. It wasn’t like he cared. Hoover wasn’t Howard. Just because they were a little nice, it wasn’t like he was gonna start trusting them. 

Tony kept rubbing his eyes. His face was getting hotter, and he could feel a big lump in his throat. He wasn’t gonna cry. Just because he’d found a haven when he thought he’d be killed he wasn’t gonna cry. No way. Not him, Tony Stark. 

No way. 

 

… 

 

When Weasel came up with a bowl of soup and some water later, he found the kid, no the mermaid, and he got shivers just thinking about, TONY, was a MERMAID, he found Tony with his head in his arms. 

“Hey, you alright?” He carefully put the bowl down, and went over to the kid. To his surprise, he got a pair of arms thrown around him. Carefully, he patted Tony’s back. He also noted how the arms were free of scales, which was fascinating, he’d have to ask about the difference in the limbs, but, well, maybe it’d have to wait. Deciding that it wasn’t everyday you’d get to hug a mermaid, Weasel hugged Tony back. 

After a while, Tony stopped crying. Weasel got a warm feeling in his tummy, and it had nothing at all to do with any new scientific discovery. Strange. Weasel pushed bag his thick, bottle-cap glasses, and wondered if this was what his mum had meant when she’d told him about friends when he was little. 

Strangely, it was a lot less bothersome than he had thought. 

 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear. I think I just made another character which I will hopelessly come to love. Please forgive me all my OCs, people. And meet Weasel! Resident Weather-Mage!


	38. The Pursuit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another ship is closing in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poop deck. Debated, ridiculed, and frequently laughed about. But I found out that the poop of a ship is the part that sticks up in the back of it. So the poopdeck is the top of the uppity back part of the ship. From where it's officers can stand and keep a weary eye out behind. Sort of like the ships butt. No actual pooping involved whatsoever.

”Oh, hey Sloppy, maybe I could-” 

“Stay where you are Tony!” 

Tony watched with a long face as the man ran by him without sparing him a second glance. 

 

He lit up though, as another running man approached from the opposite direction. 

“Heeyyy! Mins! Old Pal! I know you’re busy, but maybe you could see fit too-“ 

“Not a chance, Tony!” and Mins was gone, hurrying of to do whatever awfully important thing it was that they’ were busy doing. 

 

Tony felt hurt. They really should respect him more. He was a paying passenger, for gods’ sake! At least he thought he was. Pepper had been the one to handle the way he got onto the ship. He’d just assumed she handed over a big wad of money. 

Next time he’d find out exactly how much she’d paid so he could use it as an argument whenever people manhandled him. 

This seemed to happen more frequently, lately. 

 

… 

 

Hoover was standing on the poop deck, looking back towards the horizon. They could still see the tiny white speck, bobbing up and down as the waves carried it. 

He swore. 

“Timber!” 

The big man jumped, but collected himself. “Yes Ca-, I mean, yes, Mister Hoover?” 

“How’s Tony?” 

“Um, I saw Mins a while back, and he said Tony had still been trying to wheedle people into letting him loose when he’d walked past.” 

“Good. That means he can’t make it out on his own. Where’s the captain, by the way?” 

“Oh, the old drunk man that came aboard four days ago?” 

Hoover nodded. 

“Well,” Timber continued, “last I saw him he was headed for his quarters with a bottle of brandy, saying he’d leave the whole mess to you.” 

“Very good. Sounds like we finally got a good one.” 

“Yes Sir.” Timber nodded. “Now can I continue?” 

“Go on, off with you.” Hoover waved him away. 

 

Watching his first mate, Thomps got the feeling that Tony had become more important to him than he’d let on. 

Well, Tony had become important to all of them. Even before the rumor that he was a mermaid had been spread around. 

Hoover shook his head. Surprisingly, Weasel had not been the cause of it. Somehow, Tony had managed to befriend the wizard, and kept him occupied in some way in the big cabin. Hoover was glad they’d had a place away from prying eyes. Especially since he’d seen Weasel heaving around buckets of seawater and different aquatic plants. He’d rather not have anyone noticing that Weasel was fussing over Tony like he’d been fussing over that donkey with the lump on its head last year. Damn fool had said it could have been half a unicorn. 

Hoover laughed at the memory. Thomps had been so mad with Weasel. His reaction had been quite memorable. Maybe he’d secretly been disappointed.  
The way he’d been going on about the “mermaid princess” Hoover was starting to suspect Thomps had a thing for magical creatures too. Wouldn’t that be something! Though, rough, coarse Thomps, in love with fairies. 

It made Hoover smile just thinking about it. He could understand why Thomps hadn’t mentioned it though. He’d be teased endlessly. 

Come to think of it, that might have been where the rumor started, with Thomps. Not that anyone would think Tony was a mermaid princess, but once someone had started thinking about mermaids, they’d quickly realize that it would explain how Tony had managed to stay underwater so long rather nicely. 

So while the theories of how Tony had been able to stay alive for that long very many and fanciful, the mermaid one kept cropping up. 

 

Hoover shook himself. This was no time to get lost in his thoughts! He looked back at the white dot on the horizon. It could be his imagination, but he thought it looked bigger. 

 

… 

 

Thomps cursed like the sailor he was. “Why the hells have you not finished yet!” The shout was phrased like a question, but everyone knew it was an accusation. Thomps glared at the man in front off him. 

“It got away from us. Sir. It rolled and crashed into the one next to it.” The pirate gestured helplessly towards the two cannons. 

“I can see that. What I want to know is, how the hell was it able to ‘Get Away’ from you! It should have been standing in between the blocks!” Thomps kicked one of the wooden weights viciously. “It shouldn’t have been ABLE to physically ‘Get Away’ from you!” 

The pirate looked for all the world like a kid who had been trying to get into the cookie jar. He shuffled his feet and looked at the floor. 

“We’rwmlkjhfdf…..” 

“I’m sorry? I didn’t quite catch that?” Thomps leaned forward with a too-bright smile plastered on his face. “Can you repeat, please?” 

“We were …. We might have been, um, trying to sort of … um.” 

“Yes?” Thomps smile showed all his teeth. 

“Um. Paint it.” 

“Paint. It. Why?” 

 

“Um, well.” A younger crewman right behind the first one spoke up. “You know how we played those games last week when we were anchored at that island to get a captain?” 

“I do.” Thomps smile had frozen on his face, as if he was determined not to let it slide before he knew who was responsible so he could eat them alive. “You were pushing cannons at each other and trying to topple them.” 

 

“Yeah. Well, we thought we’d … we’d make teams. So we could take two cannons and paint them so each team couldn’t switch cannons. It’d just be … a harmless bit of fun.” 

 

Thomps breathed in. Thomps breathed out. He counted to ten. He spoke in his most controlled voice. 

“So you’re telling me, that now, right now, in this moment, you thought it would be a good idea to continue this harmless bit of fun. As in, right this day, right this hour. Now. When we are most likely being followed by a ship with dubious intentions. Though that should be impossible. Though there should be no way that anyone would be interested in us or even able to follow us for so long. In this moment, you, here, thought it would be a good idea to remove a cannon from its grooves, because you wanted,” Thomps nostrils flared. Those out of his line of sight fled the room. “to PAINT IT?!” 

 

The screams rose up from the murky deck and reached even the ears of Hoover. It was never a good idea to screw up under Thomps’ watch. 

 

… 

 

The ship had become visible yesterday. Nobody had paid it any mind. Adventurous traders often travelled out here. The risks were high, as these particular waters weren’t populated by anyone other than pirates and those who hunted them, but the reward for trading with marine fleets was high. 

However, it had stuck with them. And it had gained on them. Now, nobody was suggesting it was simply a coincidence anymore. 

The Hobgoblin wasn’t a fast ship, not with her big hold and heavy old machines, but that had never been a problem before. They’d never had to chase or flee from anyone. 

 

Well. There were still routines to be followed in cases such as this. Usually if they were being approached, they’d follow the same protocol as a trading ship would. They’d hoist the flags saying how they were traders, asking what the others hip was and what its intentions were. Once the ship was close enough, the weather mages would usually set up some sort of transmission. 

If one mage was too weak to maintain a connecting spell, or if anything else prevented a transmission, the ships would get close enough to signal detailed messages or send across boats. 

No one was expecting this ship to be friendly though. So it was a complete surprise to Hoover when Weasel hurried up to him and handed him a message. 

“What is this?” Hoover didn’t bother opening it. 

“Well, see, um, it’s a, um, message. From that ship. They must have an exceptionally strong mage to be able to, um, well, eh, send it that, um, far. Anyway, you should probably, um, open it. I sealed it so you’d be the first one to read it.” 

“Just tell me what they said.” 

“Um, I can’t really understand it, um, all. So you better read it. Um, I think you really should read it, um, now.” 

Hoover saw that Weasel seemed worried. 

“What. What did it say.” 

“Um. It mentioned someone. Onboard this ship. They shouldn’t know, but they did. Um.” Weasel wrung his hands nervously. 

“Who.” Hoover felt himself go cold. “Who did they mention?” 

Weasel looked genuinely terrified at Hoover’s expression. 

“Um. Tony. Tony Stark.” 

 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know the first thing about ships. So I made this stuff up as I went along. I bet you're not to interested in the technical workings of the Hobgoblin though, so I'll spend more time furthering the story than researching weather cannons are too heavy to roll at each other or not.


	39. The short and boring one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is waiting for the pirate's reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pretty much what it says in the description. Sweet and short. Incredibly short. But I have to move on.  
> Also, I'm sorry, but don't expect any updates in the weekend. I don't think this is a very high note to leave you on, but I have to go to this big ceremony and then my cousins are comming to town, so I probably won't be able to update untill thursday. Unless I manage to sneak in an hour of writing on sunday, as a treat for you guys.  
> ANyway. THe next chapter will be a couple of days, but it will be better and longer.

”Captain!” 

Two heads snapped up in unison. And turned to each other, before throwing questioning glances at the man who had called. 

“Um, Captain Rogers?” 

“Yeah.” Steve stood up and took the message from the man. He sighed and sat down. 

This was getting ridiculous. Having two Captains onboard the same ship wasn’t working out too well. Usually, any captain from the infantry wouldn’t even be permitted aboard any ship, other than as a guest, because of the headaches it caused. 

Steve had been put in charge of this mission though, so he was the Captain aboard. 

Unfortunately, he knew next to nothing about sailing, so there had to be another Captain aboard as well. Someone who knew what orders to give to make the ship go forward. 

So far they’d managed to get along without anything but minor embarrassment. But every time the man had to give way for Steve’s authority, he felt how the man’s resentment grew. 

 

Steve opened the message. 

“So?” Bucky leaned over, trying to read over his shoulder. 

“They will consider a meeting.” Steve put the paper away. 

“Is that all?” Bucky and Sam spoke simultaneously, but while Sam was quiet, Bucky sounded almost offended. 

“We could hardly expect any more. They’re pirates after all. Maybe we shouldn’t have mentioned Tony by name.” 

“Well Captain, it’s true that they might get scared off, but on the other hand …” Harris began.

“… there is no way they’d have answered us if we hadn’t done so.” Clint finished. 

Steve sighed. “I guess we can only wait until they reach a decision.” 

 

Silently, Steve sent a thankful thought to the magician, a man named Rocken, who had apparently only come along because he had had a crush on Ningon for gods knows how long. 

 

They settled down to wait for the next transmission. 

 

Bucky looked at his old friend. Steve was jittery. He was tapping his foot. Bucky sighed. 

This was going to be a looooong wait. 

 

…


	40. The bag of shame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An emergency meeting is held, and a decision is reached by the pirates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tadaaa! Chapter 40. Made it. I'm sorry for taking a day longer to update than I said I would, but I had no internet yesterday, and could therefor not post any earlier than now. If you're still sticking with me, I love you.

”Alright.” Thomps sat back. ”Tell me again why you decided to pull me out of my duty to sit and babble here?” 

“You weren’t doing your duty, Thomps. You were terrorizing your subordinates. That is not included in your job description.” Tony glared at him from where he was hanging. “Can you let me down now?” 

“Be quiet Tony. You’re not an officer of the Hobgoblin, so you’re technically not supposed to be in this meeting. And Thomps. This might be, well, a part of our … purpose.” Hoover looked at each man in turn. 

“Hey! If that’s how it’s gonna be, why don’t you just-“ 

“Shut up Tony.” Thomps interrupted him. “I understand, Hoover. Well?” 

“The ship which is following us mentioned Tony specifically by name.” 

Hoover sat back. His statement hung around the room, silencing even Tony. 

 

“Mentioned as in ‘We demand you hand over …’, or mention as in ‘Have you seen this man…’?” Estan asked. 

“Mentioned as in they mentioned they knew Tony was onboard, and they would appreciate it if we would peacefully allow them to meet him.” 

The silence stretched out. 

Thomps interrupted it. 

“That is a load of bull. ‘Meet peacefully’ my ass! If their intentions are peaceful, I’ll dye my beard green.” Thomps scoffed. 

 

“I can’t help but feel that Mister Thomps here might be on the right track.” Hoover sighed. “I don’t believe that it would be wise to simply comply with their request.” 

“Exactly!” Thomps slammed his fist on the table. “We’ll just loose them with the next treacherous archipelago. No more problem!” 

“No.” Weasel spoke up for the first time. “Um, I mean, if they know about Tony, and, um, not only guess, but um, know for sure, that he’s here, then, um, shouldn’t we find out, um, why?” 

 

Thomps sent Weasel such a withering look that he flinched, but Hoover looked thoughtful. “Hang on, he’s got a point. We should find out what they want.” 

“The hell! Mate, you can’t be serious!” Thomps looked incredulous. “There is no way we’d put Tony in danger.” 

 

“Hey,” Tony opted to try and get a foot in the conversation for the first time since he’d heard someone was coming after him, “since we’re actually talking about it, why can’t-“ 

“Hush Tony. Or I’ll have Thomps put another sack over your head.” Hoover said pleasantly. “You have a tendency to take the worst decisions when it comes to your own health. Thus you have no part in this discussion.” He turned back from Tony to the men seated at the table. 

“Thomps is right of course. We will not take any course of action that could endanger Tony. We simply need a way of making contact without there being any chance that they get to Tony without our consent.” 

 

The men sat in silence for a while, thinking of how this could be accomplished. 

“The Devil’s Throat.” 

Everyone looked at Weasel in surprise. He had hardly hesitated or stuttered at all. 

“Um, I mean, it’s sort of, um, a legend amongst weather mages. Um, I’m sorry. Um. It was nothing.” 

Hoover snapped his fingers. “No, wait. It may be a legend amongst weather mages, but it really does exist.” 

Weasels head snapped up. 

“It’s true.” Estan nodded from his corner. “Been there once. Nasty place.” 

Thomps looked confused. “You’ve lost me. What the hells is the devil’s throat?” 

“The Devil’s Throat. It’s an island. Half an island. Almost an island.” Estan explained, unhelpfully. 

“It’s a giant rock in the middle of the sea, and no one knows how it stays afloat, since it’s not connected to the seafloor, or at least no one thinks it is, since it’s never in the same place as it was spotted in last, and it is riddled with the holes left by a thousand tortured souls digging through it to cleanse themselves after being shipwrecked so they can go to heaven even though they won’t get buried properly, so their sins get left behind, ingrained INTO THE VERY GROUND ITSELF, and if you see it, you’ll never be seen yourself, ever again-“ 

 

“Yes, thank you Weasel. That is quite enough.” In spite of himself, Hoover was impressed. The man had become so excited he’d forgotten his stutter. “Despite the rumors, I doubt that the Devil’s Throat is a cleanser of lost souls. What you need to know is that it is a big, rocky island riddled with tunnels.” 

“Left behind by souls!” Weasel exclaimed happily, while Thomps looked as if he wanted to punch the mage. 

“Probably not, but that is inconsequential. The tunnels would be the ideal spot to hide something.” 

“Like Tony.” Thomps finally saw the light. “You want to make this Devil’s Throat the meeting place.” 

“Exactly.” Hoover looked pleased. “But more importantly than the tunnels, the island features something we could turn into a perfect trap.” 

Hoover looked around. The room waited impatiently for him to explain. He continued. 

“There is a big cave in the island. This cave is connected to the sea, and so big you can sail into it. It’s usually called the Devil’s Mouth, and divided into two sections, each about big enough to harbor one ship, and separated by a big lump of rock aptly named the Devils Tongue.” 

“You sure know a lot about this place. I thought Estan was the one who’d been there.” Thomps looked put out at being left out. 

“Estan never said anything about being the only one to have been there.” Hoover continued smoothly. “And I would appreciate it if I could continue uninterrupted.” 

No one spoke. Not even Tony, who seemed to have taken the threat of a second sack seriously. 

“Thank you.” Hoover grinned. “Anyway, we can use this cave. While lots of small islands have caves, none are quite similar to this one. For some reason, it has tides.” 

The room was silent, disbelieving. 

 

“’S true. Seen it.” Estan nodded sagely. “Maybe it’s close enough to the mainland, maybe it’s a trick of the currents. It has tides. And they’re useful.” 

Hoover grinned again. “These tides shift once every 72 hours. They’re not low enough to completely dry out the cave or to completely fill it, but they do cause one very significant change. When the tide is high, it is possible for a large ship to sail into the cave. When they are low, it is not.” 

Weasel seemed about to explode from excitement, but he obediently sat as still as he could on his chair, albeit vibrating slightly. Hoover decided to give him a break. He nodded at Weasel. “Yes?” 

“You wanna trap the other ship in the cave!” the words fell out of Weasels mouth, he spoke them so fast. 

“Yes. There is on drawback though.” Hoover noticed Weasel’s disappointment at not being allowed to continue, but ignored him. “We cannot possibly maneuver fast enough to escape the sinking tide without also alerting the enemy.” 

 

“But even if the ship is trapped in the cave, we can still get Tony enough time to escape, if it turns out that they’re enemies.” Thomps spoke softly. 

“Exactly. So, the idea would be to get them to the cave, hide Tony in the tunnels, and find out their intentions. If they are a threat to Tony, we will simply retrieve him and leave, acting out our usual ‘what-I-thought-that-you-wanted-to-pay-us-we’re-just-dumb-pirates’ routine. If they turn out to be a threat to Tony that we cannot outwit, outrun or take down in a fight, we stall them long enough for the tide to rise, which, if we time it right, shouldn’t be more than a couple of hours. This will give a small group three days head start to grab Tony and run.  
If their intentions are not hostile, we tell them about the tide and get out of the cave as soon as possible.” 

Hoover looked each man in the eyes, yet completely ignoring Tony. “I want to know whether you are behind me on this. Things could get pretty risky for any man stuck in a cave with a hostile ship. If you are not willing, then we will come up with something else.” 

 

The room was silent, except for Tony, who had started protesting vehemently against the plan. Each man was contemplating Hoover’s words. 

“I cannot think of anything better.” Estan finally said. 

“Will I get to go into the tunnels with Tony!?” Weasel still seemed to vibrate. 

“I once fought two wild dogs in a pigsty. This can’t possibly be that much worse.” Thomps grunted. 

Just like that, the decision was made. 

 

Hoover finally turned to Tony, still struggling and cursing. 

“…damn idiotic plan all around, why can’t you fucking listen to me, I’m telling you, there has to be another-“ 

“We’re gonna let you down now. If you struggle against our decision, we will be forced to put you under guard.” Hoover looked disgusted at the very thought. So did Tony. 

“Well, why the hells are you letting me out in the first place!? If you know I’m gonna struggle, why make a bother with it!?” 

“If we leave you like that any longer, your muscles are gonna cramp up.” Hoover was still calm. 

“You can say that again. My butt hurts like a bitch.” Tony grimaced. “Why the hells did you have to do this?” He looked so hurt that Hoover snorted. 

“Because you escape from everything, Tony. You wriggle your way out of ropes. Somehow you got out of the Brigg. No cabin has a lock secure enough to hold you. This was simply the last thing we could think of. I’m just thankful that you haven’t gotten out yet.” 

 

“Yeah.” Tony seemed almost proud when he thought about his escapes. “Never said I was gonna stay put.” He turned his head towards hoover. “But why must you do THIS to me?” he flashed his ‘puppy-who-somebody-stepped-on’ look again. 

“Because, as I’ve previously mentioned, you have a tendency to make decisions that end up being disastrous for your health. We simply needed you out from underneath our feet so we could ensure you have a future in which to hate us for it.” 

 

Tony continued looking just as wronged. “Still, you had to put me in SACK, and HANG me from a WALL. I can’t believe you guys.” 

Tony turned his face away and put his nose in the air. His expression was so hurt Hoover couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Tony, stop acting like a princess. It’s not very effective when you’re shaped like a figure of eight. You act like a brat, we give you a timeout box. Simple.” 

 

Before Tony had another chance to protest, Hoover spun around and started barking out orders. 

“Estan! Grab Weasel and give him the coordinates to the Devil’s Throat. You’re gonna send that other ship a message while their magician still has enough energy to maintain a connection. Make sure they get to our rendezvous. 

Thomps! Get Tony of the wall, and make sure he stays out of trouble. Check that he’s got some circulation going before he tries to walk again. I don’t like people shaking about like newborn fawn on my ship. It’s bad for the heart. We’ll be at the cave in about fifteen hours. Assemble a group that could take him and run, if necessary. Pack what they might need, and give them instructions. I want them of the ship and into the tunnels before our anchor hits the bottom in that cave.” 

 

Quickly, the men started on their respective tasks. The room emptied. 

 

…


	41. The told-you-so chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is getting suspicious. Or rather, he's getting his suspicions confirmed. He's being as graceful about it as you could expect, during the circumstances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter! Expect lots of short chapters in the near future. But at least there'll be one a day, minimum.

Sam had thought this was a bad idea from the very beginning. 

After they’d finally received a message saying they’d meet, everyone had been relieved. It had been more than they had dared hope for. Bucky had said that they should just agree to go to whatever place the pirates wanted to get to, and get their hands on Tony as soon as possible. 

Sam had felt suspicious, though. The coordinates they’d gotten had just made him more wary. There were a lot of islands closer to them than that one. Why should they have to go there? 

Bucky had laughed at his concerns. 

“Don’t worry about it, old fellow. There’s no way they have any back-up there. Even if it is some kind of trap, as long as they don’t have more than the two hundred men that their ship should hold. 

We can easily take them, both on land, and in the water. Their ship isn’t that much bigger than ours, but for some reason it’s a lot slower.” 

Sam had accepted that and moved on. There had been things to do. 

Now, two hours later, Sam was convinced this had been a bad idea. 

The distance to the other ship had not decreased in the slightest. They had not managed to get an inch closer. 

 

Sam couldn’t help but feel dejected. The only times where he ever got to say ‘I told you so’, it would be incredibly inappropriate for him to display any mirth. 

Hells. This was still better than that time at the funeral, when he’d so badly wanted to tell the family that he HAD actually told the man not to go close to the spider. 

Sam leaned over to Bucky. 

“You know, I DID say this was a bad idea.” 

“Shut up, asshole.” 

Oh well. At least no one would think him a callous murderer. 

 

… 

 

Harris was getting worried. They had been steadily catching up with a ship who should have been doing everything in their power to get away. And suddenly they couldn’t gain on them. He didn’t know much about this island, but nobody had thought that ‘The Devil’s Throat’ had sounded encouraging. 

Harris didn’t like to admit it, but he was getting worried. 

 

…


	42. Awkwardness abroad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomps gets aquainted with the machinery Tony has touched up on. It's about as pleasant as a big wave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! New chapter!

“Mister Thomps! Are we making good speed?” 

“Don’t act like a prat Tony. You know we are. Now shut up and get back to work.” Thomps grumbled. 

Tony grinned and sauntered away. 

“Oh, and Mister Thomps?” Tony threw a look over his shoulder. 

“Yeah?” 

“I wouldn’t lean on that if I were you. You’ll catch fire.” 

 

Thomps watched Tony retreat. His words sunk in. “What the hells did he mean I’ll catch on fire-eyyyyaaaooowww!” 

Thomps jumped around and patted at the embers on his coat. 

“Oh, shit!” Someone called out and flew up a ladder towards Thomps. 

Once upstairs, he hesitated. He clearly wanted to help Thomps, but felt unable to do so. Thomps was grateful for this. The man was covered in oil, almost as much as Tony was. Any action on his part that would connect him to the burning cloth would just have fanned the flames. 

Thomps managed to extinguish the last coal and turned to the man. “It’s okay. I’m fine. Go back to whatever you were doing.” 

“Are you sure?” The guy seemed extremely doubtful. “Since Tony started working here the engine has really gotten back up to speed, but it’s also a lot more dangerous now than it used to be. I mean, we’ve been here for ages and some of us are still getting hurt from the changes he’s made. Maybe I should just … help you back out?” 

Thomps glared at the guy. “No.” he said, curtly. He would be damned if he was gonna be chased out just after Tony had one-upped him. Thomps wasn’t entirely sure how Tony had done this, but he felt cheated, and intended to stay until he could prove that he would be totally at home in any environment on the ship. Even if said environment was full of twisted metal and oil and sparks and weird light. 

“No, I’ll just stay right here. Right where I am. I am not intending to move in the slightest. At all.” Thomps glared again, for good measure. 

The man gaped at him. 

“You can’t stay here! Soon we’re gonna have to change cylinders if we want to maintain the same speed without breakdowns, and then we’re gonna have to transfer the main charge through vault seven, so if you stay here-“ 

“I’ll stay where I want, thank you very much.” Thomps was starting to fear that his glare was getting ineffective. He tried it one more time. 

To his delight, the man turned and fled, down into the maze of metal he had come from. Thomps was pleased. 

Thomps was less pleased when the man returned after a minute, this time with Tony in tow. 

 

“Hi, Thomps. Why are you not listening to my men?” 

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, thank you. I am the Quartermaster of this ship, I’ll have you know. Just because you saved me once, doesn’t mean you get to order me around.” 

The man behind Tony, who seemed to be extremely worried, burst out “But it’s not about orders, soon valve seven will be filled, and then-“ 

“Hey, Stan? Thanks man, I’ll deal with our esteemed Quartermaster here. Scuttle of to safety.” Tony interrupted him. 

Stan needed not one moment’s deliberation; he just spun around and rambled down the ladder as fast as his legs could carry him. 

Tony turned back to Thomps. “He’s a good guy, Stan. Great with machines, surprisingly. Out of my ten-man taskforce, he might be the one with the most understanding of what I’m trying to do. Thing is, he’s not very good at making other people understand what he understands.” 

Tony grabbed Thomps’ arm and started towing him towards the ladder Stan had disappeared down. 

“When Stan was talking about cylinders and charges, what he meant was; ‘soon we’re gonna move all the heat from that oven to the one just below you, so unless you move, you’ll be fried.” 

Tony pushed Thomps downwards. Thomps, seeing how the water drops which his boots had left started steaming, stopped resisting. 

“So if we don’t get at least fifteen meters away from here within thirty seconds, we’re gonna loose our eyebrows. And pinkness of skin. And uncharred flesh. And ability to breathe.” 

Tony finished, and pushed Thomps along a winding corridor of junk. 

Thomps was speeding up. Tony was running so close behind him that he could feel the kid’s breath on his neck. 

 

Suddenly, Thomps felt something snag at his left foot. He couldn’t get his right one up in time, and toppled over, forward. It was quite impressive, really. He fell over in a straight arch, no bending or twisting to avoid the impact. He simply didn’t have the time. The floor met him with a big meaty thud, and for a second, Thomps couldn’t breathe. For a moment, he was scared Tony was gonna fall over him, but the boy must have jumped, cause he sailed over Thomps’ head and landed safely on the other side. 

Thomps heard him scramble, and then scream. “Thooomps!” 

Thomps shut his eyes firmly and waited for the fire. 

 

He waited a bit longer. 

 

And then he waited some more. 

 

Thomps slowly opened one eye. He found himself looking straight into Tony’s eyes. Tony was on his knees right in front of Thomps, leaning down so he could come face to face with the man. 

With a face like he was going to tell someone their dog died, Tony opened his mouth and said, in a gravely serious tone; “Gottcha.” 

 

The world was still. 

Nothing moved. 

Even the hum of the machines around them grew silent. 

Somewhere in the distance, though it should have been impossible, a cricket chirped. 

And then Tony fell over backwards, laughing. Thomps blinked. “Wha- How- ?” 

“BwahahahahAHAHAHAHAHAA!” Tony was rolling on the floor, kicking. There were real tears in his eyes and he was wheezing. Thomps stared dumbly at him for a minute. Then the realization hit him. 

“WHAT! YOU DUMB PIECE OF-“ 

Thomps was so angry he couldn’t breathe properly. Neither could Tony, but for an entirely different reason. 

“… AHAHAHAHAHahahahahaha … wow. You should have seen your face. Man, that was way better than revealing I was a merman. Oh, gods, I haven’t seen a face like that since the day of the salt prank. Heeheehee. Oh, just, haha, wow. Okay. That was incredible. You seemed so scared. You didn’t really believe I’d invite you down here if there was a chance you’d get incinerated?” 

Still wheezing, Tony managed to sit up. 

Thomps still looked like he was about to blow up, but he noticed several men gathering behind Tony. They were giggling as well. Thomps had a feeling that anything said in anger now, would be repeated several times in exaggerated measures in the mess hall later on. The best thing to do now was to try and salvage what was left of his dignity, and retreat. 

Tony could apparently beat him in every way down here. 

“I knew we weren’t in real danger. I bet the whole heat thing was a trick too.” Thomps grumbled. 

Tony grinned at him. “No, actually, if you had remained up where you were, the soles of your boots would probably have melted. But all you needed to do to be safe was go down the ladder. We didn’t have to go any distance.” 

Thomps felt that he had somehow lost again, but before he could try to rectify the situation, a hatch opened somewhere up above. Light flooded the large dank room. 

“Hey! Tony and Mister Thomps? The first mate is calling for you!” A silhouette waved at them. 

Although he wouldn’t ever admit it, Thomps was glad for the interruption. Somehow, down here, every inch was Tony’s turf. 

 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going travelling again in the weekend, so updating will be sporradic at best, and non-existent at worst. Expect me back by monday, though.


	43. The ACTUAL Bucket-Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hoover has found Tony's weakspot. And uses it with all the skill of a watchmaker assembling the most intricate of gears. He also has luck and timing on his side. Yay for luck!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gaaah! This is reeeeeaaaaaalllllyyyyy dragging on, isn't it. Almost thirty chapters, and Steve and Tony still haven't reunited. This is making me crazy! Don't worry though, I've got a feeling the reunion will be worth the wait.

The light stung his eyes when he climbed out into the sunshine. Tony blinked. 

They’d been going at full sail and therefor full speed for about twelve hours now. The sun had risen about an hour ago, and now it was light enough to extinguish the lanterns usually used during the night. 

In the dark in the lower hold, full of whirring machines and blinking bulbs, no one had cared much about whether it was dark or light outside, so Tony had completely lost track of time. 

He’d been delighted when he’d first come aboard the ship, and discovered that the heavy motor down there still worked. He’d spent most of his time upgrading it. Now it could go both faster and further. 

Tony had estimated that before his tinkering, the ship could have gone at full machine for about 20 hours before it would break down or need some kind of maintenance and rest. Well, Tony thought of it as rest, but really it was time needed to cool down. 

It got really hot down there. 

They’d tried to install some kind of ventilation, but the old hard wood of the ship, not to mention the selfish crew, unwilling to get a big exhaust pipe giving of big clouds of steam next to their beds, had made this difficult. Tony was almost as covered in sweat as in grease and oil. 

 

“Hey! This way!” Gus shouted. Hoover had sent him to pick up Tony and Thomps, and Gus didn’t often appreciate people hindering him in his duties. Tony snapped out of his thoughts and hurried after the man, before he decided Tony was too slow. 

Gus could pick up three guys at a time, and then throw them around like dolls. He’d have no trouble towing around someone like Tony. 

 

Hoover was waiting for them. 

“Glad you could make it.” He said, with a horribly stern face. “We’re making good time. Well done, Tony.” 

Tony felt oddly glad about the praise. Howard hadn’t often taken the time to praise him, and it left a strange warm feeling in the bottom of his stomach. 

He tried to decipher it, but was interrupted as he was ushered in to Hoover’s quarters. 

 

“Right.” Hoover sat down in his chair. “Thanks to Tony, we’ve been able to not only keep them from gaining on us, but we’ve managed to maintain our head start as well. We’ll be at the island in around three hours. Will we be able to maintain our speed until then?” 

Hoover looked over at Tony. 

“Well, yeah. But I’m gonna have to instruct Stan in how to take care of the engine when you’ve stopped, he’ll need to be able to work uninterrupted, or she won’t be baöe to go at any speed anytime soon.” 

Hoover accepted this. “Thomps.” He continued, “Have you everything you need?” 

The stout man, grimy from his visit to the hold, nodded. “Yeah. We’re ready to go anytime.” 

“Good.” Hoover turned back to Tony. “Are you gonna fight us? About leaving the ship and staying in hiding, I mean.” 

Tony grinned. “Of course. How else would I keep myself entertained? There is no way I am missing out on this juicy bit of action.” 

Hoover nodded grimly. “That’s what I thought. However, there is something I’d like you to consider.” 

Tony perked up. 

“Your close friend Weasel, and I assume you really are friends, will remain with you.” Hoover looked pointedly at Tony. “He will remain with you wherever you are, if that so should be in the tunnels, on the forefront of our chosen delegation, or on the bottom of the sea. Your choice.” 

Tony gaped. 

“Well? Weasel is in no position to be anywhere in the middle of a conflict. He gets hayfevers when we get within five miles of land, he stumbles over breadcrumbs and he’s so nearsighted he uses opticals to read his spells. The only thing he’s reasonably good at is mythology, and the only other thing he is even remotely useful at is reciting spells. He has only the bare minimum cranial capacity needed to channel magic.” Hoover leaned forward, staring at Tony. “If he gets within five feet of a hostile person, he’ll keel over from the mental pressure. Tony. You’d send him to his death.” 

 

At exactly that point in time, Weasel chose to stumble in through the door with a bucket over his head. He rambled around the room for a while, watched by the already seated occupants in astounded silence. Weasel bumped into the walls twice, before tangling his feet in the legs of Thomps chair and falling over. He rolled around a bit before coming to a stop. He started clawing at the bucket over his head, while making echoing indecipherable sounds of dismay. 

Thomps finally took pity on the mage and helped him out of the bucket. He popped out with wet hair. When he saw the astounded stares, Weasel tried to explain himself. 

“I, um, doubt we’’ get much, um, eh, natural light in the, um, t-tunnels, and maybe we won’t, um, be able to carry lights with us, so, um, I was practicing, um, walking in the dark.” 

When the room failed to recognize this idea for the stroke of genius that Weasel clearly had considered it to be, he indignantly grabbed his buckets and stalked out of the room in a quite dignified manner. Well, it would have been dignified, if he hadn’t accidentally walked into the doorframe on the way. He bounced back of it, shot Thomps an indignant glare, and finally stumbled out. 

 

Hoover looked at the door, looked at Tony, then back at the door. “Case in point.” He said. 

“Well, now you’re just being unfair.” Tony crossed his arms. But it was starting to get to him. 

During that moment, Weasel wandered past the door, which he had neglected to close, again. He had the bucket over his head, again. Tony gave in. 

“Fine. But I take everyone who’s vulnerable with me, not just Weasel. And I get to stay close enough to see the meeting.” 

“No.” Hoover leaned back. “No, but you can get to stay close enough to only be five minutes away from the ships. And we won’t tie you up.” 

Tony glared at him, but eventually nodded. “Deal. But I want these alst two hours to go through what I can of the ships weaponry.” 

“We don’t have that big of an arsenal.” Thomps interrupted, scratching his chin. “We never needed it.” 

Tony stared at him in disbelief. “You’re pirates! You bloody fight for a living! What the hells do you mean you don’t have weapons!” 

“Calm down, you bloody idiot. I never said we don’t fight. I said we have no need of weapons.” Thomps stared at Tony until he calmed down. Then he shrugged. “I can, however, show you what little we have, and, hum, demonstrate, some of our usual tactics, if that’ll calm you down.” 

 

Tony considered this, and nodded. “Alright. I’m just gonna go get something, and then we’ll get started.” He left the room. 

Hoover looked after him. “Probably went to get that bloody box. It’s starting to get to me, how he carries it around all the time. I wonder what’s in it?” 

“Calm down, Mate.” Thomps was calm. “If it was dangerous, he’d have warned us. If he needed help, he’d have asked us. It’s definitely important, but we don’t need to know. If we did, he’d tell us.” 

Hoover was amazed at this. It was rare for Thomps to display so much confidence in one person, practically unheard of. If he believed that Tony’s box could be left alone, then he must really trust the kid. 

Hoover shook his head. Funny how people change, he thought, looking at Thomps. 

 

…


	44. Eddards and Sensa spend quality time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddards looks back at his journey so far.

Eddards leaned over the railing and spat. He was thankful that he had nothing more than saliva in his mouth. Far too many times over the past few weeks had his mouth been filled with secondhand breakfasts and gotten reacquainted with previously consumed meals. Eddards was seasick. 

 

It had gotten better though. The first couple of days he hadn’t been able to even stand up properly, he’d been hanging over the railing day and night. Thank gods that part was over. Now he could move, eat and sleep normally, but if he spent too much time below deck, he still felt queasy. 

It hadn’t been all that bad, though. For one, James had been there. Eddards blushed at the thought. 

When he’d been so sick that his intestines had seemed intent on exiting his body through his mouth, James had been there to talk him out of throwing himself overboard. 

Well, not really throw himself overboard. He hadn’t had the energy. The best he could have done was lean too far and then sort of slide down into oblivion. James had been there with a blanket and a steady hand. 

When he’d been able to walk around, James had been there, keeping a steady arm on his shoulder. When he’d been able to drink again, James had been there with hot soup and mashed vegetables. It was almost strange, the way the man took care of him. 

Eddards tried to remember whether James had done the same for anyone else, but he couldn’t recall any such thing. 

 

“Feeding the fishes, again?” 

Eddards jumped as Sensa appeared next to him. 

“Bugger off.” 

“Hey, do you kiss your mother with that mouth? I can’t believe you, being so rude to someone who’s showing you genuine concern.” Sensa put his hand over his heart and gasped in mock outrage. 

Eddards shook his head. “There you go again, you fecking theater monkey. You’d be a decent partner if not for your habit of-Urrrp.” 

Sensa patted his back condescendingly as he leaned over the railing again. 

“You know, you’ve been holding out alright, for a landlubber. You shouldn’t have tried to play poker below deck right after a meal, though. Leave that to the real sailors.” 

Eddards looked at Sensa with as much contempt he could muster. “You’re one to talk. You’d never been on a ship before, and were almost shitting you pants when Morita pulled you up the gangway.” 

“Old history, my friend. I was obviously born to be a sailor.” Sensa smiled magnanimously. Once his friend had emptied out his mouth, he pulled him upright and turned him around. “Now, private Eddards, you’re gonna have to perform the very tasking mission of walking across the deck to the other side of the ship.” 

Eddards almost bit Sensa for that. The two days when he had fallen over every time he tried to take two steps in a row had been very embarrassing.

“Do you need my help, in this raging storm?” Sensa looked at his friend with fake concern. 

Eddards looked up. The sun was shining, the sky was blue, gulls were circling the ship, and a slight breeze was flowing. He scoffed. 

“The day I need your help, you can tuck me in with a shovel. Now bugger off.” 

“I can’t, I’m gonna show you something. Now walk across the deck, or do I have to drag you?” 

Eddards pushed Sensa away, but did make his way over to the other end of the ship. 

 

“Well? Now what?” Eddards turned impatiently to Sensa, who’d been skipping around him in the most annoying way. Gods be damned if he hadn’t picked up some habits from Tony. 

“There! At your ten o’clock! Can you see it?” Sensa pointed and grinned. 

“What?” Eddards squinted. “It’s a grey smudge. So what?” 

“That my friend, it the … badadadadaAAAAAAAMMM…. ISLAND!” Sensa hit an imaginary drum and threw out his arms. “We’re almost there! Soon we get to see Tony!” He thought about it a bit and amended it. “Well, soon we might get to see Tony.” 

Eddards ignored him. He turned back towards the sea and stared intently at that grey blur, seasickness entirely forgotten. He felt the excitement grow in his stomach. 

“Does everyone know yet?” He turned to Sensa. 

“Nope! Well, the lookout, you know, the guy up above,” Sensa pointed to the crows nest, “he knows, and he told me to tell the captain. But then I saw you wallowing in your misery, so I decided to distract you.” 

Eddards shoved him so hard he almost fell over. “If you’re supposed to relay a message, don’t dally! Now run.” 

Sensa grinned at him again and the sprinted off. 

Eddard thought for a fraction of a second, and then called after him: “If you see James, don’t tell him, I want to do it!” 

Sensa paused momentarily. “Who the hells is James?” he called back. 

“I mean Falsworth!” 

“I bloody knew it! I bloody well knew it, I knew you were-“ Sensa continued shouting at Eddards as he ran off, but the rest of the words were lost to the wind. 

 

Eddards grinned at him, pleased with the bomb he’d managed to drop. Somehow, being the two youngest members of the group, they’d always gotten on well together. When Tony had joined them, they’d managed to somehow have twice as fun. 

He looked towards the greyish dot one last time, enjoying the warm feeling rising in his chest. 

 

The he went to find James. 

 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. It's been a while since I posted last. Sorry. It'll probably take me longer to post each chapter from now on. Sorry again. Still, please tell me what you think of each update.


	45. Anticipation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is so close he can taste it. Or he might be, at least.

Steve swallowed down the lump in his throat, and started climbing. 

When Sensa had come running with the news that the island was in sight and that the Hobgoblin had reached it already, the other Captain had raised a fuss. 

Up to that point Steve had managed to work around him, even though the man had seemed to do everything he could to assert his seniority over Steve. The Captain clearly did not like having to sail with someone technically outranking him without actually being in the navy. 

The man had caused such an argument that Steve had eventually given in, and named him the senior officer and consented to follow his lead. 

 

Right now he was having trouble even remembering the wretched man’s name. Styler or something? Probably Styler. 

Steve was so lost his thoughts he stumbled, earning a worried glance form Sam. 

“You okay, Cap?” Sam mumbled under his breath. 

Technically Captain Styler had no official authority over them, and any one of the soldiers could probably sock him before he could blink, but the paperwork afterwards would be a nightmare, and no one felt like hearing the man rant. 

 

When they’d reached the island, they’d tried to disembark quietly. They had not been successful. 

Captain Styler had bitched on and on about proper procedures, and how nothing they were doing was right. 

Somehow, the annoying man had gotten his way through, if only thanks to the grating quality of his voice, and with lots of unnecessary noise and running around, they’d finally gotten of the damned boat. 

 

Now they were climbing. Captain Styler was up front, a position which he’d showed everyone out of the way to assume. Steve had been content to let him lead, it wasn’t like it would make much of a difference. 

 

Now, however, Steve was starting to dislike being stuck behind the stout man. His fingers were itching, and his feet pounded for every step he took. The infuriating man was climbing up the rock so slowly, slipping several times. 

Steve felt a rising urge to strangle him. 

 

Tony might be on the top of this rock. 

Steve just had to get up there, and see if Tony was amongst the people they were meeting. He might be. He might not. It might all be a hoax. It might be the answer to all his prayers. 

Either way, Steve’s skin was starting to crawl around his body, and he wanted to howl in frustration. 

Every step he took felt heavier and heavier. Somehow, he felt his breathing become labored, even though he’d climbed worse and worked harder on an almost daily body. A thins sheen of sweat covered his forehead. 

There was just one thought bouncing around in his head, completely filling up his mind. 

 

Tony might be there Tony might be there Tony might be there Tony might be there Tony might be there Tony might be there. 

 

With a tremble, he finally saw Styler climb the edge of the plateau, and tugged himself up after him. Pausing on the edge, Steve looked around; searching for the one thing he’d really been hoping for, this entire journey. 

 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. um. Yeah. I'm literal trash. Or not. But Im very bad at sticking to any sort of deadline. Or goal. Or regular schedule. If you liked this chapter, I will be surprised. Because I'm doubtful. This was more a stepping stone to the next chapter. Which I do love!


	46. The real power always lies behind the scenes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First contact. Wheeee!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo! All of you lovelies who's read with me to this point: THANK YOU! And all those people who'll read this in the future, THANK YOU too. Ily all. Also, I might update more regularly. Might. 
> 
> (No promises.)  
> *hisses*

Sam could see Steve shaking. Unfortunately, there was no way he could calm him down. 

Not that it wasn’t understandable. Sam’s heart was beating so hard he felt like it was rising in his throat. 

They finally reached the plateau, and Styler scrambled over the edge, closely followed by Steve. Sam had to pause momentarily as Steve stopped and turned his head. Sam couldn’t see the other party yet, they were blocked by Steve’s ridiculously huge back, but he could see the set of Steve’s shoulders. 

There was a moment of tension, and then they slumped. Internally, Sam sighed. No Tony in sight, then. Not that their Captain would ever let his feelings get the best of him during a mission, but he couldn’t hide them completely. Sam gave Steve a gentle push to discreetly remind him to keep moving forward. He did. 

 

By the time everyone in their party, Steve, Sam, Ningon, Sensa, Morita, Captain Styler and the unnecessarily large group he’d decided to drag along, had climbed up, Sam had had plenty of time to check out the men standing opposite of them. 

Their leader, that is to say, the person who was standing in the front, didn’t make a very good impression. He was drooping, and seemed to be swaying, almost imperceptibly, back and forth. Sam suspected that if they’d been just a bit closer, they’d have smelt the drink of him. 

Far more impressive was the man standing almost directly behind him. Tall and imposing, but with slightly greying hair and an impressive glare, the man seemed born to lead. He was the one who really stole the show. 

They had around ten or so other men behind them, of which each and everyone seemed more than capable of holding their own in a fight. Sam liked that. Sensible men were easy to deal with. 

Shame about the captain though. Drunks were unpredictable. Sam wondered what could possibly have led such imposing men to allow themselves to be led by such a sorry excuse of a man. Then a thought struck him. 

 

Captain Styler was standing in the front. Captain Styler had climbed up first. Captain Styler wore the biggest hat. But Captain Styler was not their leader. 

 

Maybe the Pirates had some sort of similar arrangement? Sam threw a sideways glance at Steve, and caught him staring down the tall greying man with a calculating look in his eyes. So Steve had reached the same conclusion. Well, happy day, that meant they were all stuck behind sniveling idiots who couldn’t think their way out of a barn. 

Captain Styler shouted something that was probably intended to be impressively commanding. The drunken captain answered. They kept shouting things at each other with great ceremony for a couple of minutes or so. –then they raised their voices and started dragging up family history, trying to prove who was the most noble man. Or something. Sam was only listening with half an ear. They could possibly be insulting each other’s families, debating over whose mother had been the biggest harlot. 

Sam glumly made peace with the idea of being stuck for an hour behind badly thought out insults, when Steve took a step forward beside him. 

Sam shot his friend a questioning glance, but he was ignored. Steve had plans. 

 

“Captain.” 

“WELL, YOUR GREAT AUNT CAN SUCK MY- What the hells is it?!”Styler turned around, annoyed. 

“May I remind you of one of your earlier ideas?” Steve’s face was wooden. 

“What? What was that? What the hells are you talking about?” Styler was clearly confused. 

“Aha, Captain, might I remind you how you yesterday evening suggested we perform some kind of symbolic gesture as an act of good faith?” 

“What? What are you-“ Styler looked more and more lost. 

“Captain. You explained how such a grand gesture may open the path for further negotiations. We believe that a symbolic search of both ships by volunteers would be an exemplary show of good faith.” 

“Wha-?” Styler’s lost expression was staring to turn into one of annoyance, and Sam knew that anger couldn’t be far behind. Then a full on tantrum would erupt and any talking would quickly come to an end. Pity. It had been a good try. Sam sighed. 

Then a miracle occurred. 

 

“That sounds like a fantastic idea!” 

Sam, Steve, and Styler turned around to look at the speaker with identical incredulous expressions on their faces. The one who had opened his mouth and was now beaming at them was a short, round man with thinning hair badly covered with a bandana. 

“Remember, Captain, how you said something similar only last week?” The round man turned to the drunken captain, shooting a pleading glance at the tall greying man out of the corner of his eye. 

“Of course! How great a suggestion. And how magnanimous of you to allow the other party to suggest it first.” The man moved forward and smoothly put his hand on his Captain shoulder. “Sir, allow me to express my admiration for you. By allowing the other party to take credit for the idea, you open up a whole new range of possibilities! You are truly a great captain.” 

The drunk, who had been squinting suspiciously at the hand on his shoulder, seemed to lose all his inhibitions at the words of praise. He visibly swelled. 

“Well, you know, little pearls like these are important in diplomatic relations, men. You can’t allow the other party to feel inferior, you know.” 

 

At this, Captain Styler seemed to positively explode. 

“How dare you! Any ideas of a diplomatic search were entirely mine! Do not pretend to be the bigger man, simply because you envy my great intellect-“ 

Sam relaxed and stopped listening. It had been a close one, but the short man and Captain Styler’s blind pride had saved them. 

 

“Sir, gentlemen,” Sam interjected, “may I suggest volunteers for the search parties leave the diplomatic delegation to their proceedings?” He couldn’t take a lot more of this. “I volunteer.” 

“Oh, no, don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to.” Captain Styler waggled his finger in the most ridiculous way. “I believe Captain Rogers here would be an ideal candidate. You will stay here as his representative.” 

Sam and Steve both bowed their heads in acknowledgement. Then Steve gestured to Ningon, and together they walked away to the edge of the plateau. Steve shot a grateful look at Sam. He nodded in acknowledgement. The most painful thing about this whole painfully embarrassing exchange had been how Steve had been forced to remain there when he so obviously wanted to find Tony. 

Now he was free to go. All Sam had to do in return was play second-hand man and sycophant to the ever-so-incredible Captain Styler. Silently, Sam started counting all the things Steve would have to do to make up for this favor. 

There was gonna be a lot of them. 

 

… 

 

Thomps watched Hoover walk over to the edge where the giant blond man was waiting. Together they disappeared down the cliff. He wished he could go with them. Sadly, this was not to be. He’d gotten stuck on babysitting duty. Apparently the chore of making sure their respective captains didn’t accidentally declare war on each other had been left to him and that non-descript guy who’d been remarkably sharp. Thomps waited until he could catch his eye. 

Then he mimicked having his brain run out through his ears. He was rewarded with a slight shaking, as the man tried to suppress a chuckle.  
Okay. This might not be as entirely boring as it could have been. 

After all, Thomps had done far more pointless things than spending an hour trying to be silent and motionless while making faces at a stranger. 

 

…


	47. Up, down, away!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet Ningon, and the special world of movement he lives in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. I had intended to post this tomorrow, but as you should all know by now I am an extremely impatient person and i believe I've neglected my fanfic enoguh. So here. Just for you guys. Love ya. 
> 
> P. s. Also please let me know what you think of Ningon. If I get more positive comments than negative, he might be featured more in a future chapter.

Silently, Ningon slid away. Steve shot him a glance, but let him go without a word. Usually, Ningon knew what he was doing. He was one of the best trackers and hunters Steve had ever seen. Ningon had been out of sorts aboard the boat, but as soon as they stepped on the island, he’d practically disappeared into the almost non-existent vegetation and only reappeared when it had been time to climb to the meeting place. 

 

Steve shrugged, and then turned back to the tall man walking in front of him. He had more pressing matters at hand. He couldn’t afford the time to wonder where Ningon would go, he’d simply have to trust his men, as he always did. 

 

… 

 

He took two steps right to avoid stepping on the dry leaves. Crouch down, slide over, and pause. 

Now move again. Bowing down he grabbed some of the dirt on the ground and rubbed it in his hair. …three, four, skip, and pause. 

Now move again. 

 

Four men on his left. Steve. Tall, grey. Non-descript. Eye-patch. Three knives. All were there. No one had moved out of the order. 

Slide, halt, slide, and pause. Now move again. 

 

Skip, skip, and JUMP. Feet first, left right, hand, grip branch, touch stone, and pause. Now move. 

Up the rocks, further and higher, he needed to get an overview of the cave. On the tongue, twenty four silhouettes. Wilson, Sensa, Morita, in place. Styler, fourteen thuggish sailors, accounted for. Seven people left of the opposing party. 

Ningon ticked of a mental checklist, paused. Then moved again. 

 

Leaving the group with Steve, he dodged left and right until he rounded the tongue. The ship was anchored, with the expected levels of activity. A small boat, whatever it was called, was anchored to the tongue. Two men, guarding it. Push, down, step. Pause. Move. 

 

No suspicious activity visible on the walls. Hop, hop, pause. That didn’t mean there was no suspicious activity going on, though. 

Move. 

 

A small buzzing near his ear made him hesitate. Breathe. Breathe out. Move. It was just Rocken. 

The first time the mage had used a bee to communicate with Ningon, he’d darn near fallen out of a tree. Grab, pull. Swing. Now it had become a part of his normal life. The mage would send one of the small friendly critters with a message or a link and keep it buzzing right next to Ningon’s ear, so they could talk to each other. 

“Heya, Pan. I’ve rested up good so I brought ya a link this time. I’ll hear every word you’re saying.” 

The words were tinny, but then again, they were being transmitted through the buzzing of a bee, so it was probably, jump, normal. Pause. Move. 

 

Circling around the cave the long way, Ningon got an overview of most of the cave walls. He spotted three suspicious places.  
One of them was a tunnel around which the climbing vines had been disturbed. Probably where the pirates not on the ship had entered the system. Low probability of being a threat.  
One unnaturally tidy tunnel where Bucky had most likely taken up residue, to watch over the proceedings. 

 

Step, Pause. Move. Step slide. 

 

Ningon made a mental note to show Bucky the difference between covering up your tracks and leaving no tracks behind. 

The third place was almost at the convex of the cave, right in the very top. He’d never have notice it if he hadn’t seen a shadow move, slightly. Ningon had never doubted his senses, and he wasn’t about to start now. Someone was up there. Whether they were a threat or not, was not something Ningon could determine. 

 

Skip, hop, jump. Step, pause. Now move. 

Stepping on moss and wet sand, Ningon made his way back to Steve, ignoring the annoying mage buzzing in his ear all the way. 

 

…


	48. Head butting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Hoover's first meeting. 
> 
> Do you think Steve understands he's basically meeting his in-law here?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yay (!) a new chapter only a little more than twelve hours after the last two! But next chapter will take me a while. I need to make sense of what's gonna happen before I can move on.

Steve looked at the man in front of him. Tall, with a proud posture. Dark skin, dark hair with a few gray strands. No obvious weapons, but the man’s air seemed to indicate that their absence did not indicate incompetence, but rather that there was no need for them. 

Steve held out his hand. “Captain Rogers. I’m pleased to meet you.” 

The man eyed his hand for a moment, then grasped it. “First mate Hoover. Likewise.” He grinned. “Shall we start our inspections now, Captain?” 

Steve grinned back. “New friends shouldn’t separate so soon. Before you head over to The Eagle, could we not speak for a moment?” 

“Why, I would be delighted to, Captain! But unfortunately, that would count as insubordination, I’m afraid. A Captains orders are absolute.” Hoovers grin remained. 

“Well, of course. But since the, hum, meaning of the inspection is to further cordiality between the crews, we might as well reach our intended objective by speaking.” Steve hummed. 

Hoover didn’t miss a beat. “Of course! How clever! We at the Hobgoblin believe that if a crewmember can find a more effective way of reaching his goal, he should take it, and we have always done so. But Captain, I believe that showing each other our ships to prove we can’t pose a threat to each other was the real meaning behind this exercise.” 

“Well then, do you have an enormous stack of weaponry with which you intend to attack and dismember us with?” Steve kept his face straight. 

“Hm.” Hoover looked skywards. “Well, I believe we have about a dozen or so old sabers which we use as decoration in the larger cabins. Sometimes our cook borrows them to crush chicken bones. I don’t think he ever got the hang of sharpening anything that isn’t a ‘real’ cooking knife. He mostly uses them as clubs, I should think.” Hoover looked back at Steve. “Does that count?” 

“I don’t believe it does.” 

“I guess we don’t then. Unless we have some secret stash of weapons of which I have no knowledge.” Hoover turned to the man behind him. “Stu, do you know of any secret weapons stash?” 

“No Sir.” 

“Then the answer is a definite no.” Hoover stroked his chin. “How about you? Do you have some terrifying weapons of mass destruction or forbidden spells you could use to sink the Hobgoblin?” 

“None at all.” Steve didn’t feel bad at all. “No cannons. No special amplifiers so our mage can better get you with his curses. No secret government experiments for very specialized destruction.” Funny how lying didn’t feel so bad when he knew that the other party knew he was lying and that they were expecting him to. 

“Good. Then we can really have a heart to heart talk, as we have completely complied with our captains wishes.” Hoover sat down and pulled out a small black box. He opened it and revealed a stash of snuff. He held out the box to Steve. 

“No thank you.” 

“Your loss. Now let’s get on with it.” Hoover leaned forward as Steve sat down. “How did you get to know Tony?” 

Steve snorted. “Well. Right to the heart of the matter, huh?” 

“No meaning to beating around the bush. You and I both know that this is too important to waste time over.” Hoover looked stern. 

“Yeah, alright. When I first saw Tony, he was lying on a kitchen floor with seven kinds of crap kicked out of him.” Steve sat down and made himself comfortable. “He had been-whoa!” 

Ningon had appeared at his shoulder. 

 

“Area is clean. No immediate threats. Sergeant Barnes is in position.” He said quietly. 

“Okay, thank you soldier. No further orders at the moment.” Steve looked over at Hoover. The man looked startled, but not alarmed. “Actually, take a few steps away. And settle down somewhere. This might take a while.” 

Ningon nodded, took two steps backwards and then disappeared. Well, when Steve focused, he could see that Ningon was still there. He had just sort of … faded into the background. Some people stand out in a crowd. Ningon could fade away behind a stick. He sat so that his shadow and silhouette melted into the landscape around him. Then he stopped. He didn’t just sit still, he became immovable. Not like a stone, but like a bunny, so still that the eye just slid past him. 

Plus, Ningon always rubbed himself in nature. Currently he had green moss stains on his shirt and wet sand in his hair. Oh well. Not like everyone else in Steve’s company cared about being uniform. 

 

“Ahum.” Hoover coughed to catch his attention. Steve jerked around. 

“This sounds like it might be quite a story. Before you continue though,” Hoover mentioned for his men to sit down as well, “I’d like to say this: We are Tony’s allies. First and foremost.” 

 

“Yeah. Thank you.” Steve nodded.  
Then he launched into his story. He told them how he’d met Tony in the inn, and how they’d taken him with him. Steve talked about his suspicions of Tony’s circumstances, and how he’d ignored them. He told Hoover of the journey, and Tony’s escape. Hoover seemed amused by this. 

He only interrupted Steve once, and that was to say “Come to think of it, unless we’d been confined on a ship, Tony would probably have run of from us too. Nothing strange about that. When he gets too close or too vulnerable, he runs. It’s how he survives.” 

Hearing that made Steve feel strange. It took him a moment before he realized that it was relief, flooding his system. Tony hadn’t run because he hated him. Tony didn’t hate him. 

“Hahaha, yeah. Haha. Thanks. You’re right.” Tony didn’t hate him. “He does tend to run in awkward situations. Hahaha.” Steve felt slightly giddy. Tony didn’t hate him. Tony ran from everyone. Tony didn’t hate him. 

 

Steve took a deep breath. Somehow, he thought Hoover knew exactly what he had said. Steve looked over, and he could have sworn he saw the man winking at him! 

Somehow, Steve felt the words flow more easily after that. Plus, Tony wasn’t a big part of the story, so Steve didn’t have to worry about revealing any of his secrets. 

 

When he’d finally finished, they sat in silence for a while. 

Hoover was the first one to speak. “That was quite a story.” He stood up abruptly. “But our Captain’s should have finished shouting at each other by now. We would like some time for deliberation, before we continue any negotiations.” 

 

Steve understood. This had been his chance to appeal his case, and now it was over. He hoped he’d said enough. 

Ningon appeared, or rather, he took three steps forward and was suddenly noticeable. He put a hand on Steve’s shoulder. 

“Captain. We should get back now.” 

“Yeah. We can’t leave Sam alone much longer. “ 

 

Together, they made their way up to the plateau. 

 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to BLACK_GEAR_026, who really is way more patient with me than I deserve.


	49. Group meeting and cliffhanger nr. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emergency meeting. With dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhangers, cliffhangers, cliffhangers! Lalalala la la la La LAAAAAAAA! They tend to pop up when you expect them least, tralalala, please dont blame me, I'm just the medium of my muse, la la la!

Thomps was so relieved when he saw Hoover’s head rise above the edge of the ridge. He had been far too close to losing his shit the last few minutes. 

It had taken non-descript sharp guy a while to catch on, but then he’d made some of the best faces Thomps had ever seen. Not that they’d been bizarre or grotesque or even normal grimace. Naw, nothing that obvious. It was just, sharp dude was able to communicate, with a twist of his mouth, the entire range of emotions that came with having an imbecile for a captain. 

 

“Captain?” Thomps had been handling nincompoops with massive egos for a long time. When one was shouting, it was always best to insinuate that the object of their anger was beneath their dignity. “Maybe we should retire. I don’t believe we will be making any headway with this … this buffoon.” 

It took a while, but when sharp guy caught on it took less than five minutes to calm down and defuse the two captains. 

 

Once formalities had been observed and they’d managed to get on their way, Thomps hurried up to find Hoover he was dying to know what had happened. 

“Hey! I meant, hey.” Thomps threw a glance at their irate leader, lowering his voice. “Tell me the story, okay?” 

“When we get back, the rest of the men need to hear this.” Hoover was distant. Thomps figured he was still thinking over what he’d heard. 

 

… 

 

They’d made a small fire at the sand dune. The ship was still anchored in the rocky pool, which had become almost insignificantly smaller. Estan threw a worried glance at it. The tide was on its way out, and sometime during the early hours next morning, the sound at the entrance would become too shallow to pass through safely. 

 

When Hoover and company finally came back, Estan was more than a little relieved. He never liked having a time limit. 

 

After they’d shared the food amongst the men and given the captain enough booze for him to pass out, they were finally able to discuss their meeting. 

Estan had to admit, hoover was a good story teller. Probably accurate too. With the help of the three men who had gone with him, Hoover talked of the man he’d met, the other Captain, and what he’d said. 

 

When he finished, the pirates were silent for a while. Then one of them, Mins, spoke up. 

“They sound strong.” 

“Yeah. Not just the men, but the captain too.” Hoover nodded. “He wasn’t nervous at all, even though he was facing four potential enemies alone.” 

More silence. 

“Can we take them in a fight?” 

Estan leaned back. That was an important point. If they were sure they could defeat the soldiers, then they had a little more leeway in making their other decisions. 

“We could, during normal circumstances. Using our normal pattern of attack, with a suitable element of surprise, we could probably take them out sufficiently to escape. Locked in a cage for three days, with no time or space to maneuver our ship?” Hoover shook his head. “I doubt it.” 

Curses went up around camp. No one got really upset though. They’d all expected this. 

 

“I think, maybe the good captain Rogers can be trusted.” Estan kept stoking his pipe, ignoring the heads that turned towards him. 

“How come?” Wiile, a deck hand, asked. 

“Because I think the man only lied once, during your meeting.” Estan kept on calmly. 

Hoover nodded. “Yeah. How he met Tony. He rushed past it, as if it was of no consequence.” He sat down. 

“Besides, he didn’t mention Tony’s nature. He felt cautious, as he didn’t know whether we knew Tony is a mermaid. But I believe he has at least an inkling of it.” 

They all considered this. 

 

“Let’s trust him.” Thomps suddenly spoke up. When upset stares turned his way, he defended himself with a “What? You should have seen his corporal. Anyone who can make faces without actually moving a muscle can’t possibly be a bad man.” 

“Thomps, what you consider a bad man most others would call an honorable one.” Hoover grumbled. 

“Hey! I am a perfect judge of people, which is why you hired me!” Thomps protested. 

“Hoover never said you couldn’t judge people, Quartermaster. But you weren’t there, were you?” A man from the edge of the group spoke up. 

“So? You’re saying you have a better idea of what this Rogers is like than I do?” Thomps turned red and stood up. 

“Naw, I’m just saying that you tend to be swayed by pretty words.” 

“Okay, that’s it! I’ve taken your cheek long enough-“ 

Estan stopped listening. He knew an inevitable pointless fight when he saw one. Luckily, it didn’t come to blows. 

 

Once the whole group had shouted themselves hoarse at each other, he turned to Hoover. 

“We trust this captain Rogers, yes?” 

Hoover heard him. “Well, with reluctance, yes. He’s given us no cause not to.” 

Estan nodded. He turned to the group. “Oi, big buffoons! Captain Rogers is our new ally, for the moment. Problems?” 

It took a while, and Estan had to repeat himself a couple of times (which was annoying, these idiots should have learnt by now, he’d sign up each and every one of them for double shifts when things got back to normal) but eventually he got a chorus of petulant yeses from the men. 

 

Hoover was carefully watching over the proceedings. “Mister Wiile, how long till the daylight disappears?” 

“A little bit more than two hours, First Mate Hoover.” 

“And when did we agree to meet the soldiers again?” 

“In about half an hour, First Mate Hoover.” 

“Good. This is what we’ll do.” Hoover stood up and addressed the group. “We will make our way back up to the Tongue. We will meet with Captain Rogers. We will tell him we have Tony, and that we might consider a meeting between the two. Then we will warn him of the tides, and bugger off out of tis godforsaken cave. Unless any one of you feel like something is off, in which case we’ll all leave the soldiers to their fate and get out of here as soon as possible.  
Objections?” 

No one spoke up. 

“Good. You know I trust your instincts, so if something feels of SAY SO. Now let’s go.” 

 

They put out the fire, collected their belongings and woke their captain. Hoover sent off a runner to the men in the tunnels and on the outside of the cave. 

However, just as they were starting their climb up the tongue, Thomps heard a distant bang. Almost like when that thing had exploded in the engine room last week, and the whole ship had shook. Then there was a low whistling sound. 

Thomps looked around. 

“What in the world-“ 

And that was all he had time to say, before all hell broke loose. 

 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, inspiration is tough! The above chapter is what happens when I give up on trying to push the story in the direction I want and just let my muse pull my strings. She certainly has some very interesting ideas.


	50. Sniping and hobbies and cliffhanger nr. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! No answer to the cliffhanger in the last chapter! I'd like to punch myself in the face too though, so it's okay!

Bucky was bored. Bored bored boooreed. It had been more than four hours already, and now he was bored. So bored. Famished for fun. 

After disembarking, Bucky had left the group and taken up position in one of the tunnel mounds high up on the cave wall. From where he was lying, he could see most of the cave, including the two ships, the sand dunes where the two small boats had anchored, and the tongue, where the meeting had taken place. 

Bucky had watched the two groups meet and mingle. Then he’d played jenga with a couple of sticks he found. 

He’d watched Steve and some other men break of from the group and climb down the tongue, carefully adjusting his gun so he could follow them with the scope. Then he’d made up cute new nicknames for Sam (widdlewings, amongst others). 

He’d followed Steve’s group back to the Tongue and their brief mingling, before the party broke up and the two groups headed back to respective shore. Then he’d very carefully finished the bobble to the wooly hat he was making for Sam. 

And now he was bored. 

To top it off, the men down below were starting fires and cooking dinner. Bucky was famished. 

He took out the sandwich he’d painstakingly made for himself before setting of. It didn’t look like very much. Bucky sighed and dug in. 

He could swear he smelled the food from below. 

 

In the middle of a big bite, Bucky heard something go thud. He looked out. There was an arrow, embedded in the wall right next to him. There shouldn’t be an arrow there. 

Bucky hastily pulled his head in. 

Alright. Two options. One, someone was shooting at him. They weren’t a very good shot, but still, the first option was scary. 

Two, someone was not shooting at him, but rather aiming to get his attention. Bucky looked out again. The arrow had hit through a branch and lodged itself directly between two rocks. There was a message on it. 

Fuck. Okay. Second option. That was almost scarier. With a quick curse, Bucky reached out and grabbed the damn thing. With a slight shiver, he unrolled the small piece of parchment. 

‘You’re slacking off.’  
And then a drawing of a frowning face. 

Bucky froze over. He looked out. It took a couple of seconds, but eventually, he zeroed in on the very highest point in the arch of the ceiling. Two minutes earlier, nothing had been visible. Now there was a head. Bucky stared. A head, hanging upside down, stuck to the rock. 

It turned, making Bucky rock back and swear. It was fucking grinning. Then it disappeared. It took Bucky a while, but then he got it. Clint Barton. The guy had been sort of mysterious and reclusive during the entire trip, but somehow, Bucky had had a feeling he was really a likeable asshole under his gruff serious exterior. 

So the guy had a sense of humor. And was a scarily good shot. With arrows, this was weird. The bow he’d carried when he’d joined them had obviously not been for show. He must also be a good climber, if he’d made it to the underside of the fucking ceiling, without being seen. Now that his head was no longer sticking out, he was invisible. 

 

Bucky was trying to think of ways in which he could get back at the man, when he spotted movement out of the corner of his eye. The two groups down below had started moving. Steve’s group had already started climbing, while the pirates were just about to reach the cliff. 

Bucky sighed in satisfaction. Soon this whole stupid ordeal would be over with, and if everything went well, they’d get to see Tony. 

Suddenly, he heard a strange booming in the distance, followed by a whistling sound. Unlike Thomps down below, Bucky had been in enough battles and sieges to recognize the noise. 

The ground started shaking. 

 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MUAHAHAHAHAHAHA! You thought you’d get answers? You thought you’d get to know what’s going on?! So did I! AHAHAHAHA! No! No answers! No coherency or proper settings, or nonunsatisfactory surprises! Ha! 
> 
> Also, I might have drunk three cups of almost pure sugar before posting this, so I’m not entirely coherent and don’t want to be held responsible for my actions once I get off my high. Sorry. All you poor poor lambs who started reading this in hope of proper stony and decent smut: I’m Sorry.  
> Really really sorry. Somehow, It’s probably gonna be at least five more chapters before Tony and Steve reunite.  
> Fuck it, I’ll just write a hundred and be done with it. At least then you’ll get some value out of sticking with me for so long.  
> Ok, ly bye.


	51. Bioluminescence and cliffhanger nr. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trouble is comming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tadaa! Answers! And drama! And Weasel!

Weasel was panting and wheezing. He’d hit his head and stubbed his toes, cut his fingers and legs on sharp rocks and was now desperately tired. Yet he climbed on. 

 

After they’d made it into the tunnels, Weasel had been very excited. He hadn’t really tried too hard to keep track of what was going on.  
He’d tried drawing up a few diagrams to summon spirits, but it had been too wet to do properly, and the others had shushed him angrily when he tried saying the incantations. 

Weasel had made note of that in his little book, and when he got back to the ship, he was going to make chalk which could draw on wet surfaces without breaking. He was also interested in seeing if the effects of spells changed when there was an echo. It had really been a valuable learning experience, up to that point. 

He’d been dimly aware of runners being sent in and out of the tunnels to keep in touch with Hoover and the Hobgoblin, but he hadn’t cared much. From the sound of it, things had been going well, and Weasel didn’t really care much beyond that. 

He did care for Tony though. Even he noticed how happy Tony seemed when he heard the name “Captain Rogers”. Tony had been happier yet, when he’d heard that Hoover had decided to trust the guy. Weasel had felt a small sting in the general area of his heart. He tried moving his arms and listening to his own breath, but it hadn’t felt like what he’d heard a heart attack was supposed to feel like, so he’d ignored it. It had never occurred to Weasel that he could be jealous. 

 

Suddenly, things had gone wrong. The ground had started shaking, and everyone had been running around, pushing Weasel all over the place. There had been shouting, and then Tony had run away. Weasel was the only one who had seen it, but more importantly, he’d seen the expression on Tony’s face. 

It had never fallen him in to use the word ashen as a description before, but that was really was Tony’s face looked like. Tony was upset. Ergo, Weasel followed Tony. 

Maybe Tony could use another one of those hugs he’d given Weasel when they’d first met. That had been nice. Besides, Tony hadn’t practiced walking with the bucket. Weasel was sure he would be better at walking in the dark than Tony. 

He wasn’t. Weasel realized that he was excellent at walking in the dark. When the floor was straight and the ceiling was even and the walls didn’t suddenly curve of in every possible direction, sometimes upwards, and seemed intent on cutting him into little pieces. But Tony needed him, Weasel was sure of that, so he followed him. 

 

Eventually he actually caught up to Tony. This came as a big surprise to both Tony and Weasel, one of which who had no idea that he was being followed and the other who was convinced he would die down in the dark and become one of those plagued souls who had hollowed out the rock in the first place. 

Weasel realized how he had managed to follow Tony, even though there had been no trail behind him. Tony was glowing. 

Weasel said so. 

“You’re glowing!” he reached up to touch Tony. 

Tony shied back at first, but then gave up, and let Weasel stroke his fingers along Tony’s cheek. 

 

“Don’t say it like that, you idiot. You make it sound like all of me turned into a lantern or something. It’s just my gills.” 

“Yeah, but,” Weasel floundered, “I didn’t know you could do that.” 

“Usually I can’t. It’s a stress response. If I get into fight-or-flight mode, then they start glowing. It’s evolutionary, or something. Apparently, my ancestors could scare of giant deep-sea fish with this glow. It’s not visible, when I seal my gills, but I figured it would be useful in this murk, so I unsealed them.” 

 

Eventually, Tony squirmed under Weasels fascinating stare. 

“What?” 

“Oh? What?” 

They stared at each other for a moment, before Tony gave up trying to reach anything resembling normalcy with Weasel. 

“C’mon. If the breeze is anything to go by, we should almost have reached the surface soon.” Tony pulled Weasel along, and they got going again. 

This time, it was a lot easier. Thanks to the glow from Tony’s gills and the shadow his body cast, Weasel was able to avoid running into walls and banging his head so much. He still cut his feet on sharp rocks, but his head was so occupied with processing Tony’s ability to make certain parts of his body bioluminescent. 

 

Weasel was still caught up in this endeavor when they reached the end of the tunnels, he didn’t notice they were on the way out until the sunlight stung his eyes. 

Weasel looked up. “Oh.” 

Beside him Tony had gone tense. The shine from his gills had gotten so strong Weasel could see it even in the rays of the setting sun. 

Weasel had to admit it made for a pretty picture though. The gulls, the clouds, the foam on the waves. And the gentle orange light on the terrifying armada of navy ships surrounding the island. 

Somehow, the smoke from the cannons, still lingering in the air, made it all the more beautiful. 

Weasel wasn’t very good at processing events around him not directly related to magic, but even he could read faces. From just one look at Tony’s expression, Weasel could tell that this was very very bad. 

 

…


	52. The part which Should Not Have Been and the intimidation of Styler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A panicked reaction to the immeadiate threat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... hi guys. I've been gone a while. Mostly because I decided to knit twenty two scarfs for family and friends this christmas. What energy I previously poured into this fic has, for the last month or so, been poured into lovingly hooking together lengths of yarn into things resembling actual garments.  
>  I'f you'd like proof of this, message me and I'll send you a picture. 
> 
> But, yeah. Most of my christmas preparations are done, so I might, maybe, be updating more frequently. Also, I hope your december and your holidays are awesome.

Chaos. That was Clint’s impression. He’d heard the sound, understood quicker than Bucky had, and had been out of the hole and around the cave in a matter of seconds. He caught a couple of pirates running back and forth between the men outside and Hoover, and found out what was going on outside. Only when he’d heard where the fire was coming from did he move on. 

He dropped down next to Hoover almost soundlessly. To his credit, the older man barely flinched when he turned around. 

“Oh, there you are! We are-“ 

“-under attack, I know.” Clint shrugged. “It seems to be the royal navy of The Continent.” 

“… godsdamnitalltohells.” Hoover swore quickly and evenly, as if he just needed to get the words out of his mouth with the minimum of fuss. “We need to regroup on the ship.” 

Clint nodded. “You want me to pull out the men in the tunnels and outside?” 

“No. The last thing we want to do is draw attention to the tunnels, especially since they’re Tony’s way out. The men are safe there. But can you check on the men on the shore, so they’re not in the direct line of attack. Keep them outside, they need to be ready if we retaliate, but get them to high ground where they’ll be covered.” Hoover grumbled. “I’ll take back this group to the ship. We need to decide what to do now.” 

“I’ll be back in forty minutes. Start your meeting without me, Harris will fill me in. I just need to make sure you don’t rush to your deaths.” 

“We won’t go ahead with any decision without consulting you, granted. Good luck.” 

 

Hoover and Clint both swept away, trying to get to terms with what had just happened. 

 

… 

 

“STYLEEEER!” 

The man gibbered and rolled his eyes. Saliva was running down his chin and he was going bug eyed. It might have had something to do with the way Steve was gripping his windpipe and pressing him against the wall. 

“WHAT THE HELLS DID YOU DO?!” 

“Steve.” There was a tremor in Sam’s voice, slight, but there. “Put him down. He can’t tell us what happened unless you actually let him breathe.” 

Sam recoiled, along with everyone behind him, when Steve turned a blood red eyed towards him. 

“Are you defending him?” 

“No, Captain, Steve, we NEED to know what happened. We’re being shot at and the pirates will think it’s our fault and I want to tear this little stinking rat apart, limb from limb, but WE NEED TO KNOW how much the navy knows.” 

Steve slowly relaxed his grip, his hands twitching all the while. 

 

Captain Styler sunk to the floor in a pathetic heap. After a few seconds he was able to breathe normal. 

Steve felt wound up, like someone had pulled his spring tight. The smallest movement could dislodge the hasp, and Steve would unwind all at once. So he avoided moving as much as he could. He gestured to Sam, who seemed to have a decent grip on himself, to go ahead. 

Sam sat down opposite Styler. 

“So, Captain, we have to admit we were a bit surprised. We had no idea that we were being followed. Our deal with the army involved no such thing as back up. This means someone down the line lied to us.” 

Sam held up three fingers. 

“There are three ways in in which the present situation could have been reached. One,” he folded one finger, “this ranch of the navy just happened to come across the island and suddenly decided to start shooting at it. Not very likely in the circumstances, but definitely the preferable alternative.  
Two,” Sam folded down his second finger, “they’ve been following us from the start. Remarkable really, if they could pull of such a feat. Sailing after us for days without being spotted even once.  
Three,” Sam folded his last finger and what was under Styler’s nose was now more a fist than anything else, “They’ve been keeping close by and only managed to find and reach us now because someone sent them a signal.” Sam grinned. Well, he showed his teeth. “Wanna know what I’m betting on?” 

 

Styler seemed to want to say something. Steve watched Sam sit back on his haunches. 

“I’ll never bargain with a bunch of deserters!” Styler hissed. “Don’t think you can threaten me! I will never speak civilly with renegades!” 

“Oh, but Captain Styler, we weren’t actually thinking of being civil.” Sam chuckled softly. “See, this might have been our one chance to reunite with a friend of ours, and we,” Sam gestured to the soldiers gathered behind him, “are very disappointed that we missed it.” 

Styler looked up, at Sam with that smile that had far to much growl in it to be friendly, at Steve, still as a statue except for his hands, clenching and unclenching, and then at the group behind him, staring straight at him. 

Something about their eyes was off. It was like a switch had been thrown inside them, and now they glowed. 

Styler swallowed. 

 

…


	53. Stern

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet a new villain. Despise him!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. I posted the last chapter like an hour ago, but for some reason I have decided not to try and keep to any sort of regular schedule. My every move is a perfectly orchestrated step to confuse and confound you. 
> 
> Please forgive me. ily.

They had to cease fire when the night fell. Vice Admiral Stern felt this was regrettable. 

Having been sent out in the middle of nowhere with unclear instructions chasing a fairytale was regrettable as well, but Stern knew what would happen to his promotion aspects if he slipped up, so he, regrettably, had to keep his mouth closed and comply. 

Admittedly, blowing up this godforsaken rock had been a sufficient way of expressing his frustration. If he had been more violent than ordered, then so be it. All he had to do was pit Rogers and the Pirates against each other, find some wretch of a boy, and then he could be on his way, with a huge favor to cash in from Admiral Loong. 

 

“Vice Admiral!” 

A young lieutenant was making his way up the stairs. 

“Vice Admiral Stern! Message from Commodore Wast!” 

“Let’s hear it then!” Stern licked his lips. What did the insufferable man want now? 

“Sir! Captain Hord has reported two boats spotted! Apparently filled over capacity with men, and headed this way! Commodore instructed that you should be notified immediately!”

 

Stern scowled. Wast seemed to work against him on every turn. He never told more than he had to and was unhelpfully rigid with protocol when it suited him. He also sent men that managed to irritate Stern down to the very foundation of his soul whenever he could. 

This young man, for example, seemed to spit out every sentence as if he was offended by its presence in his mouth. Quite a lot of saliva seemed to follow. Stern felt like wiping his face. 

 

Oh well. Although regrettable, Commodore’s presence was nothing more than a nuisance. As soon as he’d gotten his hands on that boy the Admiral wanted, Stern would make sure Commodore Wast would have quite a lot of things to … regret. 

 

… 

 

The two boats that reached the navy had been full of Captain Styler and the sailors loyal to him. After much hassle and complaining on Captain Styler’s part, he was ushered into the office of one Vice Admiral Stern. 

 

Stern felt a dislike for the man. For one, he was just as ambitious and pretentious as Stern was, but a whole lot more gullible and open. He showed Stern exactly what Stern could have been, had Stern not had an excellent mentor. 

Right now, he was showing Stern what a mistake overestimating your own importance could be. 

“… punched me, ME! And when they found out what they wanted, they simply THREW me into that boat, along with FAR too many men, I was JOSTLED throughout the trip, and-“ 

“Wait, wait. You said ‘when they found out’, but I find that turn of phrase … regrettable. What you actually mean is ‘after I told them everything they wanted’, right?” Stern interrupted. 

Styler gaped at him. 

 

“In fact,” Stern continued, “you folded under the smallest amount of pressure and revealed sensitive information to a potential renegade. It’s no wonder they sent you back so quickly.” 

“What? How dare you-“ 

“Please don’t try to use indignation, Captain Styler, it will get you nowhere. I regret that Rogers didn’t attempt to keep you on as a hostage. We would have been spared your prattle.” 

Styler, having been born an aristocrat, dealt with this insolence in the way that the ones born into arrogance tend to do. He ignored it. He was far too important to have been insulted, and thus it was impossible and had not happened. 

Instead, he focused on the words his brain had not automatically blurred out. 

“Wha-what? You believe I should have been kept a hostage? But that would have put you in a compromised position! I suppose that having a man on the inside could-“ 

“No, you misunderstand, Captain Styler.” Stern interrupted the captains rabble. “You are not a part of this expeditions. You take up space and provisions that are sorely needed for other things. For all intents and purposes, it would have been more beneficial, had they tried to keep you as hostages, and, haha, regrettably for you, Captain Styler, you add nothing of value, so we certainly wouldn’t have been compromised!” 

Stern had a dry laugh. Commodore Wast had once remarked to one of his lieutenant commanders that it sounded like the last air expelled from a decomposing body. 

 

Whether it sounded like the farts of the dead or not, it terrified Captain Styler. 

He hastily bowed, turned around and fled, all thoughts of righteous complaints gone from his head. 

 

Stern leaned back, confident he had seen the last of the annoying little man. Surely Commodore Wast had sent Styler to Stern just to annoy him, as always. Well, now THAT had been dealt with. Haha. 

All that was left was finding that boy, and he’d be out of the woods, with a secured promotion and a bright future. Haha. 

 

…


	54. The cocoon and Thomps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspirational speeches for the win! Though usually they're not said ironically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know you love me. Actually don't bother, I know you love me.

Weasel was shivering. The one thing he had not thought about was temperature. The tunnels were cold, and so was Weasel. 

After he and Tony had made it to the top of the island and seen the ships, Weasel had managed to drag Tony back below ground. It had been harder to find their way back through the tunnels to where the pirates were based. Tony had no motivation and there were no draft or light sources to follow. Weasel had dragged Tony around for hours, stumbling in the dark. Theoretically, he had been exactly where he wanted, in the heart of a cursed island with a great opportunity to explore, but practically, he really wished he was back in the warmth of his cot. 

Eventually, Tony had gotten over his shock enough that he could help Weasel find their way back. 

Now he was tuckered up, wrapped in a nest of blanket some kindly crewman had acquired for him. Every time a runner came from the pirates on the ship or the men stationed on the outside, Tony would stick out his head and strain to hear every word. 

Weasel felt sorry for him. 

 

“Tony! Tony, where are you!” Weasel jerked. Thomps had suddenly come bearing into the already cramped space, bellowing. 

“Quarter master, please, please be quiet. Sounds echo here. If you speak up like that, someone will hear.” A sailor was quickly at Thomps side, pulling at his arm. 

“Alright, fine,” Thomps voice was hushed, “but where the hells is Tony. I heard he disappeared.” 

“I’m fine.” Tony stuck out his head. “Now, if you’ve only come here to take up space and breathe our precious air, please leave.” 

 

Weasel thought Thomps seemed relieved. Somehow the tension disappeared from his movements. His voice revealed nothing, though. 

“So that’s where you are. Bastard, I thought you’d done a runner on us.” 

“Like I could do that. I’m forced to trust you guys now.” 

“Ha! Yeah, you are. Anyway, mind moving over?” Thomps sat down next to Tony. 

Weasel surreptitiously scooted closer so he could hear what they were saying. He felt like this was important. Maybe almost as important as his study of ghost habitats. 

 

“So. You seem pretty down. You know, with all the hiding in the dark and pretending to be a cigar and stuff.” Thomps gestured amicably in a vague way. “I mean, I know that the whole island is depressing, but you’re getting way too into the spirit of things.” 

Tony snorted. 

“No, really! People are saying you’re getting too influenced by Weasel, and now you want to be a ghost yourself.” Thomps gave Tony his most earnest look, meriting a light punch to the arm. Thomps chuckled, and it seemed like even Tony was smiling for a second. 

Then the moment disappeared, as quickly as it had come. 

Thomps let Tony sit in silence for a while. 

“You really don’t want to think he betrayed you?” 

 

Weasel didn’t understand the question, but Tony seemed to. He froze up, before he suddenly threw a handful of dirt in Thomps face. 

“Hey! Cough, cough, fine! Have it your way. Become a ghost if you like.” Thomps scrambled up and away from Tony. He didn’t leave though. 

“Hey, listen up.” Thomps addressed the room at large. “Hoover sent me to tell you to remain stationary here. Unfortunately, our first plan of smuggling Tony out if everything went to hell, depended on having the enemy in here with us. Now, with the island surrounded by a damned armada, that is no longer an option.”  
He looked at the faces around him. “Simply put, we’re fucked. In every conceivable way. We’re fucked so hard; we’ll be feeling it tomorrow. Still, no need to worry. Sure, all our plans are meaningless and we have no apparent way out and we have no back up and we’re trapped like rats in a cage with a hostile ship with considerably greater gun power than we have, but, hey, it could be worse.  
We have respite until morning. We have a damn mermaid in our midst. We’ve still got a way of contacting our allies, even if they happen to be about a week’s travel away. We also have the special surprise we prepared. Now, I know you fuckers have made it out of harder places than this. The rock hasn’t hit yet. We’ll fucking make it!” 

At this, the sailors shook their fists, a silent roar of approval. 

Maybe it was only Weasel who heard Thomps mutter, as he turned away “But we’ll need a damned miracle to do it.” 

 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to profoundly apologize for my arrogance in the notes before the chapter. I sincerely hope I have not caused offense.


	55. Blossom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A similar decision is taken, for some very different reasons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. 
> 
> *ducks under table in case of flying projectiles and booing* 
> 
> Sooooo. I've been gone a while. There is a REALLY good reason for that though, if you'd just give me a moment to come up with one. 
> 
> ... 
> 
> Right. I left my computer at home when I visited my family over the holidays, and I forgot my usb stick with my work. So I was stuck for three weeks with wanting to write but not wanting to rewrite.  
> Anyway, I'm not gonna promise you more frequent updates. When I do that things tend to go down the drain. So instead I solemnly swear never to update again. We'll see if that works. 
> 
> For those of you who will actually read this, I love you above anythign else. For those of you who leave kudos, you are my sun and my moon. For those of you who write comments or subscribe, I love you three turns around the globe, to the moon and back. I would die for you. I swear. 
> 
> So with that mindset, please enjoy my story. No pressure.

”Captain! Oh! No, sorry, my apologies, I mean first mate. First mate Hoover, the second tunnel team has a report!” 

“Alright Gus, out with it.” 

Gus stopped, panting. 

“They, hah, they reached the bubble. But they’re gonna need some time, if they want to take it apart right.” 

Hoover scratched his chin. “How long?” 

“Well, they’ll have to weaken the structures around the roof, but the men outside can direct cannon fire towards the top of the island, but they’ll still need to insert the poles in the walls, and they need to dig at least three tunnels with extras, so they won’t get buried alive, and they can only use the preexisting tunnels so much, plus the tides have to retreat, or rather, the island has to rise, and-“ 

“Thank you Gus, but I didn’t ask how much work was left. I asked how long it will take.” 

Gus shrugged. “Ten to twelve hours, give or take.” He looked slightly dejected at not having better news. 

“Alright. So they’ll be done slightly before noon.” Hoover sighed. Nothing for it. He couldn’t rush the men. “Take this message back to the chief for me. Tell him I will give him the time he needs. If necessary he can recruit another ten men from the ship, and another three from those stationed outside, but the men guarding against the Eagle shall remain where they are. Understood?” 

Gus just nodded, and then sprinted of. 

 

Alone for the first time in several hours, Hoover allowed himself to sit down. He ran his hands through his hair and sighed. It was hard to remain composed at times. Even locked in his study on the ship he couldn’t show weakness. But no matter how tired, he’d always pulled though before, and he would do so now too. 

They’d found their way out. All they had to do was hold out for another ten or so hours, and they’d be able to escape. But in six hours the sun would rise, and the attack on the island would begin anew. The tide had fallen enough that the ships would be unable to set sail. 

If what Gus had said was true, they were really and truly damned. In four or five hours the sun would rise. Then the navy would restart their attack, with nothing to hinder them from collapsing the cave. The pirates had to hold out for an extra seven or eight hours, but they had no hope of hiding in the island until then. Neither could they send Tony away and surrender, since the entire island was surrounded. 

There was just one other option left. Hoover squared his shoulders and took the decision. 

They were going to have to attack. 

 

… 

 

Vice Admiral Stern sighed. “Tell me again why we have to wait?” 

“Sir?” 

“You heard me. You’re not apparently dead or simple, so you should figure it out. The pirates are trapped like rats in a barrel, with an unpredictable half-official navy crew, surrounded by us. Tell me, Lieutenant, have we suffered any significant loss of firepower in the last few hours? That would be most regrettable.” 

“No sir. No such thing has occurred.” 

“Well then. Why haven’t we just gone ahead and brought down the cave roof on their miserable heads?” 

“Sir, because of the darkness, sir.” 

“Ah, right. It just so happens to be nighttime. The dark prevents us from maneuvering in respect to each other, and hitting the right targets, and all that.” 

“Yes sir.” 

“And that rat of a boy we have to find could slip through our fingers with the cover of darkness.” 

“Indeed sir.” 

“That would be most regrettable.” 

“The boy himself might consider it fortuitous, sir.” 

Stern’s head whipped around. “What?!” 

Lieutenant Blossom had many sorrows. His unfortunate last name, for example. His unfortunate tendency towards always walking as if the floor would at any moment drop from under his feet. His hay fever. 

Right at this moment, however, what plagued Lieutenant Blossom was his proclivity of opening his mouth and letting out the most inappropriate comments. 

Blossom closed his eyes and offered up a silent prayer. Implying that the enemy might actually be capable of rational thought could very well be taken for expressing sympathy with causes at cross purpose with the country’s, which could easily be turned around in the large confusing river of bureaucracy and spun into treason, an offense punishable by hanging. 

“Um, sir, I did not mean anything by-“ 

“Stop babbling man! That word!” 

“What?” 

“That word! Fortuitous! I’ll have you whipped if you don’t- I mean, most would consider it rude to show off amongst your betters. Do you even know what it means?” 

“Well, yes, sir.” Blossom trailed of. Silence reigned for a second, until Blossom realized that the Stern was waiting for him to actually explain the word. “Well, um, sir, I believe it means something akin to lucky, or blessed. By the way, ‘akin’ is just another word for ‘similar’ and-“ 

“I know what akin means! I know what fortuitous means. But a man as simple as you shouldn’t be throwing big words around like that!” 

A gleam came into the Vice Admiral’s eye. “You should consider yourself fortuitous, that I happen to be such an understanding officer. Haha. Well.” Stern lost his aggravated look and returned to the calm yet inexplicably moist expression he usually wore. “The pirates. Yes. Well, we cannot maneuver around or armada and we are unable to attack them with our firepower, but we still have plenty of smaller arms and an abundance of men, isn’t that right?” 

“Yes Sir.” Elation. His slip-up hadn’t been noticed. 

“So why don’t you go tell Commodore Wast that I want him to put together a smaller unit of men to go in the boats and drive the pirates out of the barrel. Please tell him that I believe you have earned yourself a place in the frontlines of the attack.” 

“Yes Sir.” Despair. 

Lieutenant Blossom saw his future grow shorter the wider Vice Admiral Stern smiled. 

 

… 

 

“Commodore Wast! Lieutenant Blossom, forwarding orders from Vice Admiral Stern, sir.” 

“Ah, yes, the keen man with the unfortunate name. How is your mother?” 

Blossom sighed internally. His mother had been a great influence in the army during her time. Now she was retired, but there were, unfortunately, still many who remembered her. 

“Very well, sir. She recently gave birth to my fourteenth sister.” 

“Indeed. A healthy girl?” 

“Yes sir.” 

“Do indulge me, I don’t mean to pry, but what is your sisters name?” 

Blossom looked down at the deck. “Kerberos.” 

“Kerberos? As in a big black hellish dog guarding the underworld?” 

“Spelt slightly differently, but yes.” 

“And your first name happens to be …” 

Someone watching Blossom in that moment might have been struck by the peculiar emotions flitting across his face. Opening his mouth instead of running away seemed to be a struggle.  
“Darling, sir. Darling Blossom.” 

“Indeed. A fine woman, your mother. She was heavily involved with the army before retiring, I believe. Did something in administration. If you knew her you could get supplies you needed transported almost anywhere, I recall.” 

“Yes sir.” 

“Good to hear she’s still doing fine. Having children at her age, impressive that.” 

“Yes sir.” 

“Well. This isn’t the time for reminiscing, perhaps.” Wast looked at Blossom’s beet red ears. “Are you hot? These summer nights are often quite mild, but I wouldn’t have thought that the uniforms are that stifling.” 

“No sir. My complexion is simply naturally red, sir.” 

“Ha! Well then. I believe you had some orders or something from Stern?” 

“Yes sir. The Vice Admiral considers waiting for daybreak to be unnecessary. He believes that it would be more strategically advantageous to send out smaller boats to attack the pirates in the cave before they-“ 

“Gods man, do you speak like that around Stern?” 

“What? Sir?” 

“Don’t you know, man! Stern has a complex or something. He aspires to be sesquipedalian. Haven’t you heard how he speaks?” 

“I- I’m not sure I follow.” 

“The buffoon hears a word he himself hasn’t used before and starts repeating it in every other sentence. It’s downright annoying.” 

“Ah.” 

“Indeed. At least ‘regrettable’ isn’t terribly out of place in most conversations. The strange words are the worst.” Wast’s face darkened. “I was once on a march with him where he kept using the word paragraph instead of break. It might have been the darkest time of my life. I hope to gods that he won’t find a new word soon. “ 

“Um.” 

Wast turned around. Blossom squirmed under his scrutiny. 

“Oh gods. You’ve done it, haven’t you? You’ve gone and given him a new word. Oh hells.” 

Blossom looked at his feet. 

“What is it? What is this infernal word I have to go around hearing used incorrectly and awkwardly for the next couple of months of my life?” Wast looked pained. 

“’Fortuitous’. I told him it meant lucky, or blessed.” 

“Oh. Oh, that’s not too bad. Good man. At least he won’t use it as a synonym for good.” Was nodded slightly, visibly relieved. “I can live with that. It sure beats having to hear someone call out that it’s time for a paragraph.” 

“Yes sir.” Blossom had completely forgotten that he was supposed to lead the way into the island. 

“Anyway, the idiot wants us to go into the caves, right?” Wast sighed. “I knew it. Waiting for morning is sensible, we’ll still accomplish our goal and risk fewer lives. The fool doesn’t care about that, oh no. He wants to make the battle ‘exciting’.” 

Blossom heard the contempt in Wast’s voice. 

“Well, at least we can stall till sunrise. Ensure that preparations take a long time, maybe a few arms get lost, maybe a boat turns over. See to it, would you Blossom.” 

“Of course, sir.” 

“Oh hells. Cheer up man. It’s not every day you get to fight pirates!” 

“Yes sir. Perhaps it is something every man should do at least once in his life.” 

Blossom froze for a second, afraid that his blasted mouth might have gotten him in trouble, but the Commodore simply laughed. 

“Indeed! And if he cannot fight well, it might the last thing he does in his life!” 

“Yes sir.” 

Blossom walked away with heavy steps. His future had never looked bright, but this was the first time he was convinced it was also looking short. 

 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. I'm taking quite a few liberties with Stern's character. If you're upset with me, just pretend he's an OC. But with Stern's face and name. Sorry.


	56. Two men of similar mindset, destined to clash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First encounter! And mist. Because mist is such a mood-setter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. Dont expect any more updates untill next week, I'm going away for the weekend. But here. Cause I love you. And cause I got two comments less than three hours after I posted the last chapter. A special thanks to fantomfaire who welcomed me back. And a well-wish to CatChan, may you live long and prosper.

Slowly and softly, they were making their way out from amongst the shoals around the island. At high water The Devil’s Mouth was easy to get to, but when the tide pulled out, plenty of rocks and cliffs were exposed. 

Navigating them was a nightmare.  
Especially considering how Thomps had to make sure that not only his own boat, but the small line of boats behind him made it safely. 

Clank. 

“Ssshhhh!” Thomps angrily gestured towards the man behind him. “If you manage to overturn the pail one more time I swear I will cut your ears of and nail them to the boat!” It was quite impressive that he managed to sound so angry while speaking so quietly. 

“I’m sorry, it won’t-“ 

“Shut up, you idiot! Don’t whisper, whispers carry over water incredibly well. Haven’t you learned this yet? God, I should have brought Rers instead of you, you dumb fucker. Whispers carry over water and sound suspicious. Speak softly, and the sound will stay close. Even if someone did hear you then, he’d assume that you were far away.” 

Shaking his head in anger, Thomps turned back to face the early morning mist. The sun was still lingering behind the horizon, and the weather was perfect. As long as they could remain unnoticed until they reached the ships, their plan was as good as done. 

Thanks to the mist, all they had to do to avoid detection was remain quiet, and that shouldn’t be too hard now that- 

Crack! 

The boat ran into something, and Thomps almost fell face first overboard. Cursing internally, he considered what could have happened. They’d mapped out their route in advance to find the easiest and quickest way out of the maze of islets. The helmsman must have made some mistake! 

Thomps righted himself, sucking in air to give the man the soft round of cursing he’d deserved, and- 

“Ooomph.” Thomps froze in shock, as he lifted his head and found his face to be less than a meter away from another man. The air flew out of his lungs and he stopped breathing. 

This was impossible. There couldn’t be a man there. He was standing, on the water! No, wait, this couldn’t be, maybe he was a mermaid too, but no, that shouldn’t be possible, and he was dressed and dry, and he was … He was dressed in the uniform of the royal navy of the Continent! 

 

… 

 

Lieutenant Blossom sighed. They’d managed to delay their departure for more than four hours, but eventually they’d been forced into the boats. Now the approaching island was giving him the creeps. 

The morning mist and general murkiness didn’t make it any better either. Navigating around the rocks and cliffs were a nightmare. They were still dark and glistening with seaweed, and somehow, they looked like teeth. Blossom felt as though he was sailing into the mouth of some prehistoric beast. 

Well. At least they had avoided detection so far. If they could just make it into the cave without trouble, maybe they’d survive this. Once inside, Lieutenant Blossom had a plan. They’d try to stay as quiet as possible, see if they could plant a few explosives in some strategic places. They had to do SOMETHING sincerely. 

When they were detected, Lieutenant Blossom intended to run around and make as much noise as possible while staying as far away from the action as possible. Then he’d stay close to the boats until he in good conscience could shout for retreat and they’d make it back without him being labeled a traitor. 

Good plan. Good plan. Hopefully the men around him would survive too. Blossom threw an eye back towards his companions. He wasn’t their leader per se, but in accordance with Commodore Wast’s orders he’d been shouting a lot the last hours, which seemed to be a sign of authority, and now they seemed to listen to him without complaint.  
Blossom swallowed. Technically he outranked most of them, but if he’d met any one of them in a bar he’d have run the other way as fast as his legs could have carried him. They were scary. 

 

All was silent, except from the water gently dripping of the oars. Mist curled around the boat and wet cliffs towered threateningly around them. Nothing stirri-

Crack! 

Blossom fell over. 

One of the men behind him grabbed him and pulled him upright. Stumbling, he took a step forward to the nose of the boat and tried to see what they’d run into. The mist cleared a little, and- 

Oh. A man. A man? What was a man doing here? What? How was a man out here in the- oh. 

Oh! OH! A pirate! Blossom realized it almost immediately. The guy looked as confused as Blossom felt. After a second his face lit up with understanding, and then clouded. They stared each other in the eye, and Blossom felt as if they both wanted the same thing. 

To slowly back out of there, turn around and go about their business, forgetting the whole embarrassing meeting. 

Good gods! You weren’t supposed to meet your attackees while they were on their way to attack you! It went against every rule of warfare! 

Blossom felt indignant. The foolish Lieutenant might really have opened his mouth right there and then to order his men to turn around and retreat, effectively ending his career and quite possible changing the story significantly. 

Blossom was saved from the indignity his confusion had almost brought him to by one of the men behind him. 

“Hey! They’re- THEY’RE PIRATES!” 

Blossom wanted to bury his face in his hands. They COULD have just gone back quietly. In his churning state of mind, Blossom was quite certain no one would have blamed him for it. Yet this buffoon had to go and shout something like that! It really got you down, it did. 

Of course the men behind him took up the cry as well, and then the bloody pirates started shouting too. Pity. They’d seemed like such sensible fellows too. Someone behind Blossom fired a gun. 

Needless to say, things got pretty interesting after that. 

 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was listening to The Rains Of Castamere while writing this. It miiiiiiiight have influenced me. Ok bye.


	57. The Declaration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ooohhhh nooooooooooo. OooooohhhnooooOOOOooooOOooo! A drastic and dramatic decision. OoohooOooooOOOoooNNNNnnnnnNNNnnnnooooOOOOoooOOOO!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! I had a great trip! Enjoy the chapter!

”..… just saying, we wouldn’t need to…..” 

The two men passed by him without noticing his presence, the noise of their conversation fading with their steps. Harris peeked out from behind his outcrop. The rising light of day, slowly making its way into the cave, was making it harder and harder for him to remain hidden. 

He was trying to reach the pirate ship. 

 

Harris had quite a complicated reason for this. Well, it had sounded complicated when he’d tried it out in his head, so he had decided not to take it up with Captain Rogers. No need to worry the man. He had enough to think about anyway. Explaining the structural hierarchies inside their group, and how they could influence the mentality of a vagabond seemed far too complicated. What it boiled down to was this:  
Tony was Harris’ friend. 

Tony was probably friends with a lot of people, and had gotten on remarkably well with most of the soldiers, but Harris thought there had been one important difference between his own friendship with Tony and the friendship of others with Tony. Harris stood outside the group. 

Harris, as an army doctor and half-official freelancer, wasn’t really under any particular obligation to obey any one of his superior officers. Perhaps this wasn’t quite how the army saw it, but it was how Harris had decided it should be and probably how Tony had perceived it as well. 

Besides, he’d told Tony his name. That kind of thing inspires confidence. 

 

So here Harris was, sneaking around with pirates, out of some far-fetched notion that he might actually be able to have a conversation with Tony where Tony would be listening. 

He wasn’t sure what he’d say to Tony once he found him. He wasn’t sure how he’d find him. Sometimes Harris got a gut feeling. He had learned to follow it. 

 

… 

 

A movement caught Harris’ eye. Close to the middle of the cave, almost at the Devil’s tongue, the cave wall started moving. 

Actually, it wasn’t the wall itself, but rather shadows appearing and moving alongside it. 

It took several minutes of squinting and waiting before Harris was able to make out the shapes as the figures of several men walking in an uneven rhythm towards the pirate ship. 

Ah. 

Tony must be amongst them. No one else would cause that kind of disorder. 

As focused as he was on the group likely to contain Tony, Harris didn’t even notice that another party was headed his way. Uncharacteristic perhaps, but then again, sneaking around in caves had never been Harris’ activity of choice. 

Through some stroke of luck, the two groups met less than five meters from Harris’ hiding place. Through some incredibly generous stroke of very good luck, they met five meters away from Harris on the right side of the rock he was hiding behind. 

 

Well. Someone out there liked him. 

 

… 

 

“So? Can you please stop dragging me around without telling me what’s going on?” 

It was the first time Harris had heard his voice in weeks. 

It still had an obnoxious ring to it. 

 

“I could, but that would require for you to stop being a brat and actually carry yourself. You had every opportunity to follow our movements through the reports, yet you chose not to.” 

The reproach in the man’s voice was obvious. 

“Reports are boring. I just want someone to tell me what’s going on.” 

“That’s what reports do. That’s why we have them. So we know what’s going on.” 

Silence reigned. Harris could practically hear the pouting. 

“Fine. I’ll keep out of your way and walk by myself. Now, please Hoover, tell me what’s happening.” 

“Good. I will.” The older man took a deep breath as if steeling himself for something. “We’re gonna sink the island.” 

Harris blinked at that. He felt that such a measure was rather unexpected. Apparently, so did Tony. 

“WHAT?! YOU’RE GONNA DO- NO, WAIT HERE A MINUTE! This island isn’t just for you! It holds a significant strategic advantage for ANYONE who hopes to travel incognito under water and doesn’t mind waiting several months to reach their destination! The Devil’s Mouth isn’t just famous amongst land folk you know! Do you have any idea of how-“ 

“You never mentioned the island was important before.” Hoover cut him off more smoothly than Harris could have imagined. 

“Well, no, that’s not, I didn’t- You weren’t gonna sink the damn thing! Floating islands are hard to come by! And I’ve found that it’s often best to keep folks on a need to know basis.” Tony practically hissed. 

“Tony. You promised you wouldn’t hinder us.” 

“But you don’t have to sink it!” 

“Yes. Yes, we do.” Hoover was impeccably calm. “We are surrounded. You know that we are not well-armed. We have no immediate escape routes and no close allies. We need a distraction and a head-start. Sinking the island will give us both.” 

“How?” Tony shrugged helplessly. “You mentioned a secret weapon, but you’re not seriously telling me it’s tunnel-digging, are you?” 

“No. It’s way more than that.” Hoover seemed almost disappointed with Tony’s lack of enthusiasm. “Do you have any idea how much skill and knowledge it takes to sink and island? Much less know how to figure out if it’s possible?” 

Tony shrugged under Hoover’s disapproving stare. 

“… no.” 

“Then don’t look down on our method of fighting. Accurate and extensive knowledge of geology and geography has helped us more times than we can count. It is how we fight on land.” 

“Alright. So, what? We all climb aboard the ship, pull some ropes, the island falls apart and we sail off into the sunset?” 

“That would be the ideal, yes. Unfortunately, this will not work.” 

 

Both Tony and Harris straightened up at that. 

“We cannot sink the island until right before noon-“ 

“What?! But you’ve had all night!” Tony squawked. 

“-and the navy would most likely bring the cave down on top of us first. 

So we had to create a distraction. We sent out Thomps with a small number of men to deposit some convenient explosives in the general vicinity of any Continental ship they could find.” 

“Okay, so good. Then the plan is just wait until things start going boom, grab Thomps, sink the island, and ride a big happy wave out into the sunset.” 

“No. No, that should have been the plan. That was the plan, but, Tony,” Hoover drew a shuddering breath, and Tony stilled completely. “something went wrong. While we were busy planning an ambush on our enemies, they were busy doing the same. Thomps ran into a group of boats in the shoals around the island. The bastards had been making their way in here as they clashed. They’ve been fighting for around thirty minutes now. The confrontation has devolved into a game or cat-and-mouse. There are seven hours until noon. If we pull all our manpower and prepare to be completely exhausted by the time we’re clear, we can reduce that time by two hours.  
Thomps should be more than capable of stalling for five hours. He’ll keep the enemy’s attention away from us.” 

“Still good, though, right? We’ll stick to the plan, except no explosions, right? Right?” Tony tried so hard to stay as still as Hoover. It wasn’t working. 

“No. Tony, there is no possible way we’re going to be able to pull them out of there fast enough to get them on the ship before the enemy gets in. They’re so tangled up in there that they can’t tell their own selves apart. We can’t pick them up on our way out either. Tony, we’re gonna have to-“ 

“No, nonono! Don’t you dare say it, you bastard! Don’t you-“ 

“-abandon them. Tony, we, the crew of the Hobgoblin, are officially declaring the premature loss of 21 men of our crew, notable amongst them our second helmsman Welk, first foreman Happins, and Quartermaster Thomps. They are, from this moment on, no longer alive to us.” 

 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, so yeah. Obviously, there are no real ranks amongst any officers, on any kind of ship, which are called "second helmsman" or "first foreman". So lets just say those are special ranks that the pirates came up with to straighten up the hierarchial mess that is the result of any larger collection of petty criminals.  
> It's really HARD to obey someone when you suspect him of pickpocketing your bunkmates shaving mirror. Therefore, pirate hierarchies don't just go up and down but sideways and around, too.  
> Heh.  
> That sort of rhymed.


	58. The Heartwarming reunion (but still not the one you’re waiting for)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At last. A long awaited reunion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, it's not Steve and Tony. Yes, they will eventually get together. Probably. That's the direction I'm trying to go here.  
> Also please comment. Your comments make me want to get started on each new chapter. That and also I want to see how this story is going to end.

Oh shit. Oh hells no. This can’t be. Tony stared at Hoover, as if he couldn’t really believe that the man was right there. 

“Are you serious?” the accusation rang in his tone. “Are you seriously declaring Thomps dead right in front of me. Are you seriously DECLARING Thomps dead?! What-“ 

“Pirate law, Tony.” Hoover cut him off. “A captain or acting captain can, if he judges the situation to be sufficiently dangerous, declare the loss of a few of his men, to save the many. Even if said men haven’t practically died yet.” 

The world was reeling. Somebody was playing some sick joke, Tony knew it. 

“ … the hells?” He sounded lost, even in his own ears. “You can’t just- Hoover, please! There is no way that you can-“ 

“I can and I will, Tony. I already have. Around us we have more than ten men, a sufficient amount of witnesses for such a procedure. All laws have been followed. Thomps is dead Tony. Weasel will confirm it for you.” 

“What?” Tony turned around. 

Weasel peeked out from behind whatever muscly mcMusclemountain had momentarily obscured him from view. “Um, sorry, eh, but I, um, I think he’s right, um, yeah. I did some, um, reading on pirate laws before, um, joining, and, hum, nothing’s technically w-wrong, here.” 

 

Tony sat down. “Go away.” 

“What?” 

“I said go away. I don’t want to look at you right now.” 

Hoover sighed. “Fine. As long as you don’t do anything stupid. I’ll leave Hops and Gus a little bit away. They’ll keep an eye on you, so don’t try and sneak past them.” 

Tony stared at his knees. 

“C’mon. We still have things to do. Get moving!” Hoover commanded, and the pirates walked off. As promised, two of them hung back. Tony glared at them. They turned around and stared out towards the ship. 

 

This was probably the best chance he was ever going to get. Harris took a step forward. 

 

… 

 

“Hello Tony.” 

The reaction was immediate. “Gyiiiiieeee! What! Huh?! Huh?” ´Tony took a closer look. “Jarvis?” 

“Yes. Aha, you do remember me. And Tony, kindly close your motuh. The incredulous look is not becoming for you.” 

Tony’s jaw snapped shut. “Ahahahaha. Hilarious. You’re still an asshole, you know that, right?” 

“Indeed. But really, sir? ‘Gyiee’? Isn’t that a rather undignified reaction?” 

“Great. You’re the one sneaking around in the shadows, and I’m the one who has to improve his behavior.” Tony suddenly grinned. “Welcome back, you asshat.” 

“I missed you too, sir.” 

 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 57, 58 and 59 could probably have been one chapter instead of three. Oh well. This way you'll get to read it faster. I can always go back and edit it when I'm finished. Since I'm posting this mid-morning I might sound slightly saner than normal. Don't be fooled, I'm still me.


	59. The beginning of the (dum Dum DUUUUUM) finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A meeting between old friends. And a refreshing dip is always nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying, I really really am. Sorry. For the emotional mess my chapters undoubtedly are. I can't- I just fucking- I give up. I will not make sense of anything anymore. I'll leave so many plotholes for you guys you'll trip with every third step. hahaha. Ha.

”Tony.” 

”No.” 

”Sir?” 

”No. 

”He did have a point, you know.” 

“No.” 

“If you would simply deign to listen-“ 

“No.” 

Harris sighed. Arguing with Tony could be trying for an impatient soul. Or for a saint. 

“It would be inadvisable to run around like a headless chicken. If these men cannot be saved, why sacrifice yourself in a hopeless attempt at saving them?” 

“No.” 

“’No’ is not a proper answer to my question! Are you the only one on that ship who cares for those men?” 

Tony was silent for a minute, hesitating before opening his mouth. 

“No.” 

“Do you believe it was easy for that man to take the decision to abandon them?” 

“No.” Tony looked at his feet again. “I think Thomps was one of his eldest friends.” 

“Yes.” Harris plopped down beside Tony. “There had to be a reason, though. Sir?” 

“Yeah.” Tony’s whisper was barely audible. “There probably was a reason.” 

 

“You know of such choices, don’t you? You know about choosing the lesser evil. About prioritizing the masses before the individual.” Harris slowly scooted closer until his shoulder was leaned against Tonys. The warmth was comforting, in the dank of the cave. 

“Yeah.” 

It was so silent, Harris barely caught it. 

“I have to move on. And I fucking hate it.” Tony was starting to cry, big tears rolling down his cheeks. 

“I hate everything. I hate that I can’t fucking make myself at home anywhere. I hate that I can’t return to the home I have. I hate that I had to leave you guys behind. I hate it. I HATE IT!” A sob racked Tony’s frame. “I hate that Steve led the army here. I hate that I can’t fucking trust people. And it’s not just necessity, I just can’t make myself trust them. I can’t fucking emotionally rely on anyone.  
I don’t wanna loose Thomps. I don’t wanna hear him declared dead even though he’s still breathing just outside.” 

Tony leaned back against Harris. 

“You know what’s worst, though? You know what really sucks? The thing that keeps me awake at night, the thing I just can’t get over,” he took a deep breath, “is that I have to be so fucking mature about it. I want to curl up in a little ball and roll around on the floor and scream and beat the snot out of anyone who comes near me.” 

Tony picked up a loose rock and flung it as hard as he could. It landed a bit away with a satisfying splash. 

“I can’t. I want to go to, to him and tell him that he can’t do this to me, that there’s no way he could have betrayed me, and I want to, to punch him, and I, I just want to, to- Gaah! I can’t! I want Thomps back, but somehow, I want HIM back even more!” 

Harris knew who Tony was talking about. It wasn’t very hard to guess. 

 

“He didn’t betray you, you know.” 

“Ha! Yeah, he just happened to lead the navy here, by accident. Fine story indeed.” Tony sniffed. 

“He really didn’t. There was another captain on the ship. We had to tolerate him since Steve doesn’t know the first thing about sailing. He contacted the navy.” 

Tony sat silent for a minute. 

“So, say I believe your story. What do you want me to do? Just go over to him and ask for help? Stay behind and go with him instead? Will anything I do make everything magically better?” Tony saw Harris’ expression. “Don’t look like that. I know it won’t. Sometimes, no matter how hard you fight, you just … lose people.” 

He shrugged. 

To Harris, the gesture was far too innocent for the implication it carried. 

Nobody should have to resign to the feeling that loosing people was something that couldn’t be prevented. 

 

“It won’t change anything. You’re right. Maybe it will be tougher for you. But, sir, Tony, I want you to know. He didn’t betray you. He never did.” 

Harris’ expression softened. He put his arm around Tony’s shoulders. 

“Something’s we can’t change. But maybe others can change them for us. Think of all the people behind you. Think of the people who raised you, who rely on you. They’re the source of your pain, sir, I know. Yet they’re also the source of your strength. Don’t let that go to waste. Survive.” 

Somehow, it felt like his words were necessary. Like Tony really was on the verge of abandoning rhyme and reason and staying. 

 

“Getting a little soppy, aren’t you, Jarvis? Is your old age finally creeping in?” Tony rubbed his eyes and grinned. 

“Haha, sir. Amusing indeed.” Harris stood up and bent down to brush of his knees. “Now, if you would please wait while I-“ 

Tony was gone. He’d looked down for one second, ONE SECOND, and Tony was gone. He wasn’t sitting where he had been sitting a second ago. He was gone. Vanished. Poof. 

 

“Hey!” There was no mistaking Tony’s voice. 

Harris pushed back his head and narrowed his eyes. How the hells had the kid made it around those rocks so fast? He was almost at the- at the edge of the water! 

“Tell ‘em I won’t be gone for long, okay? I won’t do anything stupid, and I’ll return. Probably.” Tony turned away from Harris. His head bobbed down a bit, like his knees were bending, and then he flew, up, up, and down. 

Splash! 

Harris sighed. He should have expected this. There was no way Tony was going to just sit still after what he’d been told. The least Harris could hope for was that he stayed out of trouble. 

 

Now, how was he going to deal with his appointed task? 

Deciding that keeping it simple would be easier for all parties involved, Harris bent down and started writing in the sand. 

 

Approximately fifteen minutes later, the pirate Gus went to check on his friend, Tony. 

He found the following message, scrawled in the ground. 

 

“Gone for a swim.  
Won’t be back for a while.  
\- Tony.”

 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dont' give up on me, oh please keep reading. It's messy now, but I've got this big part comming, and lets just say, I 've been planning on writing it FOR A LONG FUCKING TIME. What I want to say is, I have a really really really good feeling about the next ten or so chapters. Stick with me untill then. Who knows, if we all manage to play nicely together and get to chapter 200, we'll finally find out what's in that infernal box who everyone keeps forgetting.


	60. The explanation for the part that Should-Not-Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hoover has to deal with some tough decisions. He does this by pretending they're not there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update! Hooray! And I promise you, after this, the REALLY good stuff is gonna be there.

“First-mate Hoover!” the man came up the steps, panting. 

“What?” Hoover paused in his task of reloading the upper hold, handing over the box in his arms to a passing man. “You know we’re all needed, hurry up.” 

“We, we found a message, sir. A message from, from-“ 

“From Tony.” It wasn’t even a question. Somehow, Hoover had come to expect this. Whenever things couldn’t become worse, Tony somehow managed to find some shit and drag it up. It was almost remarkable. 

“Yes, well, yes sir. Gus sent me, him and Hops found a message, scrawled in sand. Tony said he’s going swimming, and won’t be back for a while. Sir.” 

Hoover dragged a palm over his face. “Why am I not surprised?” 

“Well, sir, Hops and Gus are out looking for him now, and I can-“ 

“No! Gods man, don’t recruit any more folks, we can barely spare any!” Hoover thought about it. “In fact, we can’t actually spare any. Go fetch Hops and Gus, along with whomever else they’ve roped in. Tell them to head down to the tunnel-teams, and report for heavy duty lifting. We can’t waste their power. It was dumb to station them with Tony, but it would be dumber yet to let them search when they won’t find him.” 

“Sir?” 

“Oh, come on. Tony can take care of himself. He knows what’s at stake. He’ll turn up in time. Now Go! I thought I gave you an order!” 

Hoover sighed to himself as the man ran off. He hadn’t told the entire truth. Hoover wasn’t sure Tony would be safe. He had no idea whether the kid would be able to find his way back to the ship before it was too late. But it was the only godsdamn option! If they went looking for Tony, they’d be captured or killed, without a doubt. No one would make it. If they trusted in Tony, there was a maybe fifty percent chance he came back, and at least some would survive. 

Math, Hoover told himself. Good, solid math and logic. The lives of some against the lives of none. 

It still hurt. 

 

“Hawkeye!” 

Hoover barely managed to grab the man as he hurried past him. 

“What? Oh, Hoover.” 

“Where the hell have you been? How are the men outside? What about your tasks?” 

“All taken care of, mate. Delegated and sorted. You got most things covered here, right?” 

“Oh, no. Don’t you sneak off to wherever you came from! Look, you finally show up after god knows how long, but we’re still in the middle of a crisis! We need you!” 

“Weeeeeellllll …” Clint reached up and scratched his head. “See, the difference between those other times I’ve helped out, and now, is simply that you’re, well, you’re not the only players in the game anymore. So I’ve gotta battle on several fronts. See ya.” 

Quickly, he shook loose Hoover’s grip and jumped the railing. 

Hoover stood staring after him. “What the hells?” 

 

“Hoover?” Ethan had appeared behind him. 

“Wha- Oh, yes. Hm. You’d think I’d have gotten used to him by now, wouldn’t you.” 

It wasn’t really a question, and Ethan knew it. 

“Ten years, you know. TEN fucking years, he’s been doing odd jobs,” Hoover continued. “and I still feel like my heart will stop every time he jumps out. If the King wasn’t so adamant about having him, I’d have refused him the first time he fucking popped out of the woodwork.” 

Ethan shrugged. “He’s always helped us before.” 

“Yeah.” Hoover drew a shaky breath. “Every damned time we’re in a pinch, he seems to pop out of nowhere, but, but somehow … somehow I get the feeling that we weren’t his priority this time.” 

“Then maybe we aren’t.” Ethan met Hoover’s glare. “Maybe all he needed was information. For once, we have unknown variables affecting the situation.” 

“You mean the soldiers. You think he came for the soldiers?” 

Ethan just shrugged, and Hoover left it at that. Hawkeye had always been far too cloak-and-dagger for Hoover’s blood-pressure. Ethan wouldn’t be able to come up with more answers than hoover himself could. 

 

“Hoover?” Ethan was looking worried, and Hoover realized he’d been staring out into empty space. 

“Thank you, Ethan. I know you heard me earlier, and thus I know you’re aware we can’t spare any manpower. Please go back to your tasks. I have things to see to before we can give the engineers the all-clear.” 

Ethan nodded and hurried off. 

Hoover took after his example and focused on his next task. But no matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried to focus; Hoover couldn’t shake the rising sense of dread inside him. 

 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's been about a week since I last posted. I'm not apologizing. Today jsut so happens to be my twentieth birthday, and in the weekend I celebrated with my mum.  
> See? I really did have a valid excuse.  
> Ok, ly bye.


	61. Bam, and going out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The calm before the storm. Goodbyes are always heartwrenching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is there such a thing as angsty fluff? I think I've accidentally written angsty fluff.  
> Anyway.  
> I've recently gone through a bit of a rough patch, but things have settled down and I'm finally feeling calm and relatively happy again. Since there is no more source of constant stress in my life, I'll probably be dedicating more of my time to this story.  
> That's the first reason this chapter took so darn long. The second one is that I first intended to write all of it from Steve's perspective, and it just WOULD NOT WORK, it fought me letter by letter. 
> 
> Then I realized that the real joy in writing lies in making my readers suffer, and this is what I came up with. 
> 
> ... 
> 
> Please don't kill me. 
> 
> Also, fair warning. We are headed towards a sort of finale, people. There will be a LOT of pain, drama, and above all, horrible cliffhangers ahead.  
> I promise all will come to a happy end, but we're all gonna suffer first.  
> Sorry. I really am. But you're reading it, so I only bear half the blame. 
> 
> ... 
> 
> Please please please don't kill me.

Steve was walking. 

It might be more accurate to say that he was pacing, and one could even be stretched to describe his motion as stalking, yet no one would go as far as to call it running. Definitely not. 

Steve was not running. He was very sure of this fact. Calmly putting one foot in front of the other while making sure that one foot was touching the ground at all times. This was walking. 

The fact that he proceeded at a speed faster than Sam could keep up with unless Sam was running himself was irrelevant. 

Walking was walking, and running was running. When walking, one foot always touches the ground. Steve kept contact with the ground. He was grounded. He was walking. 

 

“Captain!” 

Harris had finally appeared from behind a rock. The doctor had disappeared a while ago, and they’d been looking since. After more than half an hour, someone had finally spotted him making his way back towards the Eagle from the pirates’ side of the cave. 

Steve had been walking since he heard the news. 

“Captain!” Harris waved. “I met Tony!” he called. 

Okay, maybe NOW Steve was running. 

 

… 

 

In hindsight, Sam thought, it had all started with Bucky. 

Everything started with Bucky. His life had inevitably slid out of his control after the first time Bucky had grinned at him like he couldn’t wait to get under Sam’s skin. And he had. And Sam’s life had slid so far out of his control he woke up every morning feeling like he had sleepwalked a hundred miles and ended up in a foreign land. 

It was exhilarating. Every time Bucky grinned at him, Sam felt like he was flying. 

Steve was part of it, of course. As were the commandoes. A captain he could follow and a group he could trust were more important than a steady paycheck, Sam had learnt that the hard way. 

Now, watching Steve shouting orders, Sam thought it was important to remember that. This wasn’t ENTIRELY Bucky’s fault. Bucky should not be glared at. 

 

Harris had had some very bad news indeed. The pirates had some kind of escape plan, but it would take time to set up. To buy said time, a smaller group had been selected and sent to distract the ships, but they had met an ambush from the navy, and were quickly being outnumbered. 

To top it off, Hawkeye had just arrived with news that a second wave of attack were headed towards the sounds surrounding the island.  
The pirates would not be able to run before they ran out of time. 

 

As soon as Sam had understood the situation, he realized they’d reached the end of the line. It was inevitable. Steve was in love. He would warn the pirates and then go out there, facing down half an armada, to protect his love. 

He wouldn’t be alone. 

Their captain would never ask them to, of course. It would never enter his head to ask his men to follow him into a battle he knew he couldn’t win.  
So how could they let him go alone? No one who had come this far would leave now. They would all be there, all seventeen of them, at his back, where he needed them. They would be there for Steve and Tony. 

And they would die. 

 

It would be worth it, Sam thought. That in itself had to be amazing, in some way. It was a testament to Tony’s conviction. They would all go because of Steve. Steve, with his pure and righteous cause, his anger with the world and the unfairness of it all, and his devotion. The devotion Tony had inspired. 

Just like Steve wouldn’t ask for it, Tony himself had never asked for their loyalty. He had never told them about his cause, or even implied it was important. He simply just fought for it, every step uphill, in a silent war against the world. 

 

That’s why Sam was walking into a battle for a reason he didn’t even know. The reason didn’t really matter. Tony had a cause he thought was worth fighting for, and Steve thought Tony was worth fighting for. 

 

‘Terrifying’ didn’t even come close to describe the air that had overtaken them. Even though he knew they would die, Sam couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pity for those who would first face them. 

 

“Sam.” Bucky had appeared at his side. Until now, Sam had felt as though he was wrapped in cotton wool. He was distant from the present. His decision was clear, but he couldn’t really feel the moment. Suddenly, his head cleared as terror flooded through it. Bucky. Bucky, who chased him and played pranks and fought like a wildcat. Bucky would die too. 

“…” Sam opened his mouth and closed it again. Nothing he could say would change that. Bucky wouldn’t sit out on this one. 

“I know what you’re about to say.” Bucky quipped up before Sam could try again. “And you know what my answer would be. And you know what I’m about to ask you, and I know what the answer will be, but I have to ask.” Bucky drew a deep breath. “Would you go to the pirates? Find Tony, stick with him, and get out of here?” 

 

Sam shook his head, and Bucky slumped, almost imperceptibly. “I thought so.” H pulled his fingers through his hair, messing it up even more. Sam watched the twitching nervous movements and reached up and stilled them. He brought Bucky’s hand down and pulled it to his lips. “Would you?” 

The question was unnecessary, said more as an explanation than anything else. Bucky shook his head. “I wouldn’t leave you. And even if you were safe I wouldn’t leave Steve, or Tony. I know you wouldn’t either, but I … I had to ask.” 

“I know.” Sam lightly kissed the fingers in his hand. “I know. I had to ask as well.” 

 

They just stood there, frozen in that one moment. Enjoying each other’s warmth. The sound of their breath in the cold air of the morning. 

 

“Lieutenant!” Morita called, and time came rushing back in, the sounds around them becoming clearer. “We have decided that two men should be sent to the pirate ship to inform them of our efforts.“ 

“Who?” Bucky let his hand fall, but kept his fingers entwined with Sam’s. 

“Eddards and Sensa.” 

Sam nodded. “Good. Have they agreed?” The two youngest members of their company should not be allowed to go with them. Gods, they were barely out of their teens. Sam wouldn’t try to convince any of the original commandoes to stay, they knew each other too well for that, but their two newest and youngest members should NOT be allowed to march to their deaths. 

“They will soon.” Morita looked grim. “Falsworth is talking to Eddards now, and I have already gotten Sensa to agree.” 

Sam looked over, to where Eddards and Falsworth were standing close together, arguing in heated whispers. Sensa was hovering at the edges of their little circle, looking anxious. 

Suddenly, Falsworth threw his arms around the younger man and drew him close. Ah. So it was like that. When the younger man folded himself closer against the soldier, Sam looked away. It felt like something too private to stare at. 

 

“Hrm.” Bucky cleared his throat. “I don’t envy Eddards right now. I do, however, feel that Falsworth is in an enviable position. HE won’t have to worry about his lover. I do wish I was in his shoes.” 

Sam glared at him. “So do I.” 

They stared each other down. 

Then Bucky’s fingers twitched, almost unnoticeable, as he took a better grip on Sam’s hand. 

“Well. Let’s agree not to try and put each other in Eddards position, then.” 

Sam sighed but nodded. “Alright.” He looked down. “I guess there are worse ways to go, than side by side with you.” 

Morita, completely forgotten, mumbled something about damned lovebirds and marched of. 

“Yeah. We’ll be together ‘till the end, won’t we?” 

Bucky smiled, and Sam felt himself soar. 

 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me. There is a lot of pain ahead.


	62. Pun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The soldiers launch their attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You are free to do what you will with this chapter. Hate it for all I care.

”You should stay here.” The words were measured, clipped. Ningon was staring straight at him. 

“I should.” Rocken agreed. “For me, it would be the most advantageous move. I could choose to later follow the pirates, or return to the navy.” 

Ningon kept staring. 

“Why d’ya think I shouldn’t stay wit’ ya?” Rocken tried. Engaging Ningon in conversation was always difficult. 

“You don’t intend to leave.” Ningon didn’t answer him. 

“Well. You’re not wrong, per se. But I’m still not sure. I know you could use a mage. Why d’ya want me to leave?” 

Ningon kept staring. Rocken felt as though someone had aimed a blowtorch at his soul. He squirmed. 

 

“It would be troubling, if you were to follow us into battle and then die. I would risk becoming … emotionally invested.” 

Now Rocken stared. “Are you serious? You’re telling me that the one thing that would get you to feel something for me is if I get myself killed? And that it’s ‘troublesome’?” 

“You have raised your voice.” Ningon observed. 

“Yep. You’re godsdamn right I’ve raised my voice. Do you have any fucking idea how fucking long I’ve had a crush on ya?” 

Ningon kept up the staring, but Rocken no longer felt nervous. “That sure was one hells of a way to confess though.” 

“Confess.” 

It wasn’t a question. Ningon never asked questions. He just hung around until someone picked up on his confusion and explained things to him. 

“Yes. Confess. You’re like stone, dude. Tha’s like the closest thing to an honest discussion of feelings we’ll probably ever have. Gods.” 

Rocken sat down and rubbed his face. Ningon kept up the staring. 

“You are upset.” 

“No fucking shit. What clued you in? The raised voice?” 

“Yes. Among other things.” 

Rocken let his head fall into his hands. He felt Ningon stare at him. 

“I am leaving now.” 

“Okay.” 

“Goodbye.” Ningon hesitated, almost as if he was torn about whether to continue or not. “I did not always feel bothered by you.” 

And he was gone. 

 

Rocken sat still, his mind racing. Hearing Ningon even admitting to something like not feeling disdain had given him a shock. 

He really shouldn’t risk it. The chance of an untimely end was way too high. The sensible thing to do was to calmly find a means of escape and get the hells out. It wasn’t like Ningon had even said anything that important. 

Oh gods. There really hadn’t been a choice from the beginning, had there? He really hoped Ningon hadn’t done it intentionally. Falling in love with someone that hypothetically manipulative could not be good. 

As fast as he could, Rocken made his way to the little dingy that had been left for him. 

 

The battlefield he would be entering would be treacherous and changeable. It wouldn’t be easy, with a combined terrain of terrifying cliffs and swampy little islets, trenches too narrow for any boat, and currents too strong to fight against. 

An overview of such a battlefield would be invaluable. 

 

… 

 

Rocken closed his eyes. For once, he needed to concentrate entirely on the battle. He couldn’t let his eyes distract him. 

Vibrations, that was it. That was what mattered. Vision was messy and distracting. Colours, smears. Lost time. Vibrations were infinitely more practical. Rocken had long since discovered this. Everything alive, and most things inanimate, moved. With the right practice and receptors, almost anyone could pick up on that. Rocken sure did. Using bees to get a better feel of the world around him was a recent advancement, though. One he was proud of. 

One that would come in handy now. 

 

Maintaining bees while at sea was nearly impossible. Nearly. While considering the inevitable fighting over whether petunias and cornflowers are a necessary part of a magician’s equipment, the squabbles over space and sun, the constant fighting to keep both hives and plants from sliding overboard in storms, and the endless, ENDLESS rationing of water, Rocken had nearly given up. Nearly. 

Now, he was very glad he hadn’t. 

Through directing small puffs of wind, the mage had managed to make his way to a small rock just outside of the cave, way away from the thick of the fighting, unless things went very very wrong. He managed to pull up his small boat, and sat down to get down to business. ‘Summoning Bees’ sounded like such a stupid thing to do, so Rocken was, of course, an expert at doing it. 

Things which sounded dumb were usually incredibly rewarding. 

 

Rocken shook his head. Focus, focus. This was the important part. He needed to get an overview of the battlefield. 

Breathing through his nose, Rocken simply let his mind wander, and listened. 

He didn’t like what he heard. 

 

Seventeen soldiers, minus two, Eddards and Sensa, plus two, Harris and Barton. Then an unknown number of potentially friendly pirates and an unknown number of hostile sailors. Okay. First things first. Rocken breathed in, and found Ningon. 

Convincing one bee that Ningon’s ear was a flower was easy. Now he just had to spike his concentration to make it buzz. 

“Hello Pan.” Rocken held his breath, then heaved a sigh of relief as he felt the man respond. 

“Good to hear ya with me, Pancake. Now listen, you’re all headed out in a battlefield essentially blinded. You don’t know the, you know, the terrain. And it’s changing and the tide is going, and there’s mist and shit. I know all about it, I’m a freaking mage, but more than that … I’m babbling. 

Godsdamnit, I’m babbling. What I wanted to say was, I’d be pissed if the last thing you said to me was ‘I didn’t hate you’, and-“ 

Ningon interrupted him. 

“What? No I know that wasn’t your exact choice of words. Shut up, I’m interpreting them.” 

Ningon spoke again. 

“Look, we don’t have time for this, alright? Just let me finish. I can provide you with an overview of the battle, with the bees. It’d help you, yes?” 

Rocken listened to the hums. 

“No, I’m not gonna jump in. That’d be stupid. I can’t fight close-range. This’ll be easier, and-“ 

“What!? No I’m not a coward! Shut up! Do you want the bees or not?” 

“…” 

“Fine. Thing is, people don’t tend to take all that well to suddenly hearing an invisible voice, so I just thought, you know, give them the heads up. Help me find them and explain what I can do.” 

“…” 

“Okay. Well. Hm. Take care, Aja. I’ll see you on the other side.” 

Rocken ceased listening, and fanned out the swarm. He had a task to finish. 

 

… 

 

“Ningon. Are we good?” Steve’s voice held no hint of nervousness. 

“Yes, Sir. Here is your bee.” 

“Thank you.” Steve looked relieved, and slightly ashamed. “I understand that getting him to agree must have been difficult.” 

“Emotional manipulation is never pleasant.” Ningon remained impassive. “Sir.” 

“But … I thought you really did care or him?” Steve looked confused. 

“I do, Sir. But still, I displayed my emotions in a way which would influence Rocken to act according to my desires. Whether my emotions are real or not does not affect the outcome.” 

“I … see. Thank you, Ningon. Not only for …, persuading him, but for putting him at risk as well.” 

“Yes.” 

Steve nodded, feeling a bit awkward. Ningon tended to have that effect. 

“I will leave now. There are still three bees to guide.” 

“After this, I’ll bet you’ll be the BEES KNEES with the other fellas, eh? Eh?” Steve grinned. 

“Any effort in adding the battle will be appreciated. Yes.” And Ningon disappeared. 

Steve looked after him, mentally shaking his head at himself. He wasn’t sure what kind of response he’d expected, but he should have known better than to think it would be well received. 

Honestly Steve wasn’t sure Ningon had even understood that it had been a joke. 

 

Bucky would have appreciated the joke. Bucky would have groaned like his life was being drained from him. Steve hoped his friend would be able to stay alive. 

Silencing his breathing, Steve gestured to the other two men in the boat to follow Ningon’s lead and disembark. The lower the tides went, the more ground they had to move on, and it was getting harder and harder to navigate. 

Jones moved out first, Gallaver close behind him. 

Steve took the hand Jones offered and pulled himself out of the boat. Taking a moment to see his men disappear into the mist, Steve the pulled the boat onto the small islet. He secured it to an outcrop and tugged the knot twice to make sure it would hold. Steve carefully double checked that he had his equipment, and that everything was secure and inconspicuous. 

First then did he allow himself to listen to the bee. 

 

The buzzing was hard to adjust to at first, but he managed to tune in to the words behind to hums soon enough. 

He confirmed that Meisne and Harris had reached out to a group of pirates. Bucky, Dingo, and Porter had located the enemy. Dum Dum had already engaged the enemy. 

 

Screaming and gunshots echoed through the air. With the mist blocking everything from sight, it was an eerie thing. More than the sounds from the battle though, Steve heard something else. Something softer. Breathing. A group of people, nearby, trying to be very, very, quiet. 

Well then. 

Taking a better grip of his shield, Steve slowly turned. He stood, for three seconds, as if on the edge off a cliff, for barely a moment, before launching himself forward with a deafening roar. 

The battle had begun. 

 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do care. I'm just super tired and this is aarrrrghy.   
> Also I recently named all my chapters. Please don't try to find any meaning in the titles. I just had to be able to find them.


	63. Think Desperation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Battle continues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im sorry.

… 

 

“Oh do stop your whining.” Harris chastised. 

The man beneath his hands muttered something inaudible, but Harris, ever the perfect gentleman, chose to ignore it. As soon as the wound was closed, he smacked the man on the leg and continued. 

“If you don’t take any hits to it, you should be able to run on it for a while. Good luck.” 

“Good luck. Gods be with ye.” And the man was off. 

“Gods be with you.” Harris watched him disappear over a ridge, and then tuned in on the bee buzzing in his ear. “Mister Rocken, what next? Has anyone applied for aid?” 

“Nah, and you speak stuffy. But there’s someone commin’ up on your right, and I can’t get a read on him. Not sure if he’s friendly or what. Watch out, yeah?” 

The words, tinny as they were, were surprisingly chilling. Harris understood. If someone came up behind him, the best Rocken could do was warn him and hope for the best. They couldn’t send reinforcements, for there were no reinforcements. There was nothing left to do but fight for survival. 

 

Harris turned to face the newcomer. 

 

… 

 

“Pull!” The command rang out, and Sensa pulled. He’d been pulling for some time now, and he was starting to resent it. It wasn’t as bad as dealing with Sergeant Barnes on a bad day, but then again, few things were. 

They had approached the pirates. This had been surprisingly easy. After confirming they were friendly, Sensa and Eddards been rushed off to see the first mate. Hoser-something. Hoover. 

Sensa had told him of Captain Rogers’ decision, and answered his questions. After five minutes the man had indicated he was done. They’d both been rushed away into the tunnels, and had been furiously digging for the last half an hour. 

When Sensa thought about it, maybe it wasn’t so strange they’d gotten aboard. The pirates had practically no men to spare. 

 

There hadn’t been any guards left to stop them, and once they were in, it was either work or drown. In fact, that was what the team leader had shouted at them. Over and over again. “Work or drown! Work or die! You know the drill!” Sensa didn’t.   
Nobody explained the drill to him either. 

Inconsiderate bastards. 

 

They’d been pulled along into the belly of the island, pushed from one task to another in quick succession. Eddards had been behind him, but at some point, they’d been separated. Sensa had tried to protest, but the words had died in his throat. The man whom he’d grabbed had turned towards him, the flames of hell in his eyes, and whispered “I haven’t slept in twenty-two hours.” Somehow, it was hard to argue with that. 

 

So now Sensa was pulling. With no Eddards to jab his shoulder and tell him to stop being so melodramatic. All they had to do was move a spot of dirt. 

Right. Sensa looked behind him. A fucking ton of dirt. 

He pulled. 

 

… 

 

Harris squinted into the mist. The figure coming towards him was walking slowly, gradually appearing through the fog. He had his hands up. 

“Mister Barton?” Harris was surprised. “Are you … surrendering?” 

“That would be pretty meaningless, now wouldn’t it? Seeing as to how we’re technically on the same side and all.” The sarcasm in Clint’s voice was deafening. “You can talk to the others in some way, right? Everyone’s running around like they know exactly where they should be. Except me, cause I just came. Nobody hands you a pre-dinner drink when you’re late for the party.” 

Harris almost snorted at the image, but ploughed on bravely. “The man you want is Rocken, the mage. He uses bees to communicate and relays information.” 

“Of-fuckin-course. How dumb am I. I should have just known.” 

“You would have, had you been here. Where did you go?” 

“Oh come off it. I know you snuck away as well.” 

Harris sighed. Mental swordplay was almost as tiring as a physical one. “Your motives are unclear. You wish to aid Master Stark, but why? There is no evident reason for you to do so.” 

“Your motives aren’t exactly transparent either. And is this really the place for this discussion?” 

 

As if to emphasize Clint’s point, a gunshot echoed over the water, startling both men. 

“Fine.” Harris realized he wouldn’t get anything else at the moment. “Was that all?” 

“Tell the mage I’m gonna find him, and I need a bee.” 

“If you simply wait here, he can send you one.” 

“That wouldn’t work.” Clint cut him short. 

“Okay.” Harris waited, but no other explanation was offered. “Alright. I will tell him. When I talked to him, he was over by the cliff shaped like a duck.” 

“They’re all shaped like ducks from the right angle.” Clint muttered. 

Harris waited. 

Clint stood still. 

Nothing happened. 

 

“Barton? Is there something else?” 

“Do you know where Tony is?” 

Harris went cold. “Why?” 

“I can get a read on everyone else, except him. And if he isn’t where he should be when the pirates’ plan goes off, things could get very very bad.” 

“What will happen if Tony isn’t in place when the pirates plan goes off?” 

“The he’ll miss his chance. They can do this once. Everyone who’s in the right place when the time is right will be able to sail out of here. Everyone who isn’t will either die or get captured. Mister Harris. Where. Is. Tony.” 

Harris swallowed. “Last I saw him, he dove into the water. He said he needed to clear his head.” 

Clint glumly stared down at the waves. “Well, fuck.” 

 

… 

 

Tony’s head was pounding. He felt like a machine that had been allowed to run for too long without cooling down. His thoughts were fire, racing back and forth across his mind. The water was calming, cold. 

Tony really hadn’t meant to ditch Jarvis and everyone, but it had been too much. He needed space to think. He needed the solitude that came with swimming. 

Gods, his head hurt. 

Tony swam on. He’d gotten out of the cave as fast as he could; the water was far too murky. He couldn’t very well swim out into the ocean, not on his own and not with the fleet surrounding it. At least in the sounds around the islands the water moved. 

 

Tony’s gills twitched. The taste of blood reached him even here, far from the fighting. Hm. Maybe not as far as he had thought. A body dropped into the water in front of him. Okay. Definitely not as far as he’d thought. Tony swam away before checking whether it was dead or not, ally or not. He couldn’t do anything. Getting discovered would not help his cause. He should be getting back to the cave. Back to the ship. 

Back to where Steve was. 

Steve. Now wasn’t that a thought. When Tony tried to sort out his feelings, he realized most of his confusion stemmed from Steve. Oh, well, there was the whole fleeing for his life bit, and the part where people in his vicinity had a tendency to die in his stead, and then the whole part with the, yeah okay, bad train of thought. 

If he started to think about the things he hated about his life he’d never stop. 

He’d never had an issue with that before though. Well, okay, he had issues, plenty of them, but he’d never been this upset before. Why? 

Tony honestly had to pause a bit. Why was he so upset about Steve? And what was it that had upset him so? He swum close to the seafloor and grabbed a stone for stability. Drifting off without control was never a good idea. Tony needed all his focus on this. 

Why was he upset? He tried to sort out the sequence of events in his head. 

Okay, first of all, Steve had saved him without reason. Then he’d somehow covered up the bit about Tony’s legs. Then he’d turned out not to be as much as a bucket-head as he could have been. Steve had actually been someone Tony might have called a friend. 

And then Tony had left. Out of habit, mostly. Stuff had happened, and Steve had chased Tony down. Wasn’t that a shocker? Then they’d almost met up, and then the army had arrived. Now Tony was about to leave without half of his allies, and he had no idea what was gonna happen to Steve. 

 

Gunfire echoed through the water, and Tony decided that once again the battle had gotten too close for comfort. He took off. Boy, they sure moved around up there. You’d think they’d sort of be hampered by the massive amounts of freaking SEA, but they seemed to be doing surprisingly fine. 

 

Turning back to the thoughts mulling over in his mind, Tony asked himself again, why? Why had Steve done what he’d done? Routinely dodging cliffs and currents, Tony tried to work it out. Steve had no reason to help him. Even if Steve now considered himself to be Tony’s friend he had probably not done so at the start. And Steve had been helping him from the start. 

Considering how Tony had abandoned him, and it would have made more sense for Steve to betray him to the navy than to try and help him. 

But Jarvis had said Steve wasn’t a traitor. Steve had been the good guy all this time. What would happen now? Would Steve survive? Would he go back to the army? 

Tony shook his head, a tiny bit of bitterness seeping in. Steve certainly had no reason to stay. 

He’d be gone as soon as the tide came back. 

 

There was no cause for grief. It would be better without Steve. There was no ROOM for Steve in Tony’s life. He had no space and nothing to give. He didn’t even have the possibility of choosing his own path. 

In fact, it would be better without everyone. Better without Steve, without Sam, Bucky, Jarvis. Without Hoover and Weasel and Gus. Without Estan and without … without Thomps. 

But Thomps was already lost. He had not left, he had been lost. 

Tony deliberately swum through a patch of seaweed. The strands tore at his face, distracting him from his thoughts. Not the pain. There were never enough to distract from the pain. 

At least Steve wouldn’t be lost the same way. Steve wouldn’t be lost at all. He’d just be gone. 

It would definitely be better that Steve left. Before Tony could lose him. He’d just be gone. 

 

Oh gods. 

He’d never see Steve again. 

Tony would never get to talk to him again. To touch him, or hear his voice, or laugh at his stupid jokes. 

The enormity of the thought was mind boggling. Tony would never get to see Steve again. If Steve even survived. 

 

Tony realized where his thoughts were headed and paused again. This time he shoved his face into a patch of sand and rubbed it back and forth until his skin was rubbed raw. 

No. That was a very bad train of thought. He would NOT go there. Of course Steve would survive. He had a knelling troop at his back for gods’ sake. Steve would survive and go back home and get promoted. Or fired and then he’d get a new job. And he’d get a house and then married and he’d have a big happy family, without Tony, and- 

Tony slammed his face back into the sand. 

“What the hells is wrong with me?” 

Screaming didn’t really do much underwater, but Tony felt better for doing it. 

 

Of course he wanted Steve to be happy! Of course he didn’t want Steve to die. 

So why did it hurt when he thought of Steve being happy without him? 

 

A big wave swept past him overhead, pulling Tony along with it. He tumbled around and around, everything spinning until he couldn’t’ tell whether it was his thoughts or the rocks around him that made the world circle. 

When he finally managed to stop himself, he was completely disorientated. Annoyed, Tony unsealed his gills and let himself feel out the water. 

Trying to steady himself, Tony repeated the one thing he thought mattered. 

“Steve is gonna be okay. Steve is gonna be okay. That’s all that matters. If Steve is fine, I don’t need anything else.” 

If he said it often enough, it might come true. 

 

A tremor reached him. It seemed like the pirates were getting along with their plan. Good. That was good. It meant that they’d make it out of the cave. If only he could get back to the ship in time. Fuck. 

Tony turned around and stretched out, swimming as fast as he could. There would be no point if he couldn’t get to the ship. Dodging left and right, staying in the shadows of the cliffs, Tony made his way back. When he could, he piled forward, and when he had to he slowed and hid. In one of those moments, next to one of the bigger islets, a movement caught his eye. 

And he saw it. The water was calm, clear. He could see the figures on the cliff as though they were behind a glass screen. 

Steve. 

Steve was right there, fighting. Fighting Navy soldiers. 

 

The movement was strangely captivating. If Tony had to explain why he didn’t move on, that’s the word he would have used. The way Steve fought wasn’t graceful or showy; it was short and sharp and to the point. Steve didn’t punch people if he could elbow them instead. He didn’t fight to follow some rule or to win over his opponents, he fought to take them down. Tony found it mesmerizing. 

Steve spun and punched and swung that ridiculous shield he’d carried around. Now it didn’t look quite that out of place any more. A boot connected with a leg, and the man in front of Steve went down. 

Tony’s breath escaped him in a hiccough. 

Two more took his place. 

Steve fought and fought, but the more men he downed, the more appeared. Tony could understand the logic of that. It was a sound strategy. Take down the biggest threat first. It was one of the first three rules written down in the manual handed out to Imperium Captains. Right now Tony resented that strategy with every fiber of his being. 

 

He had to move on. If he didn’t get back to the ship soon, he’d miss his chance at escape. Steve would be fine. If he had to he’d surrender. It would be fine. 

At that point, Steve was assaulted from behind. Two men grabbed his shoulders, and one of them clubbed him over the head with the butt of his gun. Steve went down. 

 

He did not get up again. The two men who’d downed him disentangled. A third man stepped up. He towered over Steve. Tony hated him. He had a gun. 

No. That wasn’t possible, was it? The great Captain Rogers couldn’t possibly die by something as banal as a gunshot. Could he? 

No. No! Steve wasn’t gonna die! Tony had decided he’d be happy as long as Steve was fine! It wasn’t fair! 

The man raised the gun. 

Tony’s world narrowed. The gun was the sole target of his focus. Past, present and future consequences fell away. A white blankness fell over him, and Tony, for the first time in several days, felt quite calm. Everything was so simple. He had to stop the pistol form going off. That was all. He couldn’t let that man take the shot. Not at Steve. 

The soldier cocked the weapon. At Steve. His Steve. 

Tony surged. 

 

STEVE! 

 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did it. I fought and fought and I finally wrote it and here it is. Please comment. No chapter was as horrible to write as this one. Please let me know if it was worth it. Thank you to Anya for commenting after all this time and giving me a kick.   
> I love you all.


	64. Grapevines and snakecharms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Violence. Like, much violence. And death. Not of a named character, but rather, by a named character. Please be careful

Steve was going down. He knew this. He had known this from the moment he had set his foot outside the cave, possibly even longer. There was one thing though, that shone through the darkness. Through every whine, every bang, ever guttural scream and slide of steel, it kept him going. Tony was going to be safe.  
When he found himself cornered on that bare rock, after Bucky had screamed in his ear before being torn away, Steve had no regrets. He decided that if this was going to be his last resting place, then so be it. He would not resent anyone, not even himself, definitely not Bucky, and least of all Tony.  
As something hard connected with his head, Steve’s thoughts grew blurry. That wasn’t good. He had to keep sharp. Being slow in a battle got you killed. He was shoved and lost his balance. The ground hit him hard.  
Steve felt the towering shadows above him, but that was all they were, shadows. He tried to summon some sense of urgency, but all he found was fuzz. 

There are certain sounds which are instinctively recognizable to the human ear. There are some sounds which cuts through the din and make their way straight into the hindbrain where they cheerfully club you with a sack of sand until you get the message. A parent will always hear a crying baby. A shopkeeper knows the sound of the bell above their door, even years after retirement. Steve, soldier of numerous years, survivor of countless battlefields, heard a sound which had the same effect on him as a bucket of ice dumped over his crotch.  
Somebody cocked a gun. 

 

… 

 

Lieutenant Blossom was not having a good day. He was quite sure he not had a good day since that time when he was seven and his mother forgot him in the laundromat, where he had spent a happy afternoon counting pennies and dimes, watching the people put coins in the machines.  
This day was as far away from good as is possible to get on the spectrum of good to bad days, that it was, in fact, approaching good from the other end.  
Lieutenant Blossom was trying very hard not to cry. 

 

Above all, the first lesson Lieutenant Blossom had had imprinted upon him upon entering the academy was this: don’t go above your pay-grade. When you’re a cadet, there’s no point in trying to erase bullying. When you’re a private, it doesn’t do to try and come up with an alternative route through the swamp. When you’re a second lieutenant, trying to take charge of the platoon after your first lieutenant gets rascally drunk is not a good idea. All that happens is that you get targeted, yelled at, disciplined and demoted. Never go above your paygrade.  
His current situation was definitely a situation to avoid, in lieutenant Blossom’s book. He was so far above his paygrade that he’d need binoculars to look down on it. 

Now, those who only had a passing acquaintance with Lieutenant Blossom might take him for an incompetent, utter nincompoop. They’d be right. Military-wise, Lieutenant Blossom had no talent or desire to apply himself in any way. Yet he was not a fool. Blossom had made it to first Lieutenant after all, mainly by dodging orders whenever possible, never standing out, and always, unfailingly, keeping his ear to the ground.  
Lieutenant Blossom was the stem from which all grapevines grew. Lieutenant Blossom was every drunken officer’s best friend and sympathetic ear. Lieutenant Blossom put his ear to the tracks and kept it there. Lieutenant Blossom was not, in any particular way, a gossip. Being a gossip indicates that one likes spreading information and rumours. Lieutenant Darling Blossom never spread rumours. He simply took note of them, wrote them down if necessary, and firmly committed every single whisper to memory.  
To Lieutenant Blossom, his current situation was fraught with dangers, unseen to the untrained eye. Quite a few of them were not the possibilities of an immediate violent death. While he never liked leading charges, he usually survived them. A man of slight build could hide in practically any crevice. No, what Lieutenant Blossom disliked was the … political nature of his current assignment.  
Now, Vice-Admiral Stern had given clear orders. This was good. The part that filled Lieutenant Blossom with doubt was this: Stern didn’t have the authority to give those orders, no matter how clear.  
He did not have complete clearance from all levels of authority to go ahead with what he had chosen to go ahead with. And now he had decided that the well-known war hero, Captain Steven Grant Rogers, who was infamous for going against superiors’ orders and coming out on top before, was expendable and should die.  
If it got out that Stern had even made an attempt on Captain Roger’s life, especially if the circumstances surrounding his death were unclear, things would come down heavily on Vice-Admiral Stern. Stern might think he was on top of things, but Blossom thought that what Vice-Admiral Stern was on top of was an anthill. Soon the storm will bring down a tree. When the ant on top gets crushed, the ants under him tend to go as well.  
Maybe Stern thought that he was in fully authorized, maybe Stern even though that he had proper backing, maybe he thought he was on top of things. In Lieutenant Blossom’s opinion, what Vice-Admiral Stern was on top of was an anthill made of cotton candy. And heavy rainclouds were rolling in on the horizon. Once the rain hit the ground, Blossom was certain Stern would find himself in a big sticky mess, with no helping hand to pull him out of it.  
Blossom did not want to be squished under Vice-Admiral Stern. 

Unfortunately, he was bang smack in the middle of things.  
And now some idiot with about as much eye for the circumstances as a blind mole for colour was pointing a gun at Captain Rogers. Lieutenant Blossom sobbed.  
Then an angel appeared. 

 

… 

 

Society doesn’t like mermaids. They are ugly fish-like creatures, they don’t treat people like people at all. They have long dripping hair, with their heads rolling about their necks, like ghosts out of a nightmare. They have hollow souls and cold, cold hearts. They bring death with them, wherever they go, like the plague. Their legs and arms are covered in slimy green scales, harder than the hardest steel, ending in vicious claws, longer than a fish-knife. When desperate they go to extreme lengths for revenge, even going so far as carrying of babes and kidnapping children.  
Society is mistaken in part, though. Mermaids rarely have jaws strong enough to bite through the thick hulls of battleships. They don’t eat babies, if they can avoid it.  
But they are monsters.  
Tony knew this, and right at that moment, as he flew through the air, he was glad for it. He stretched out his arms and barreled into the oaf in front of him. It didn’t bring him down, Tony noted, but it did knock him of balance. Then Tony hit the ground and rolled. Before he was even the right way up again, Tony had turned around and was running back towards the man.  
Everything felt right, for once. Tony’s blood sang in his veins, his teeth felt like they were lengthening, and his breath was flowing faster than it had since he lost his mom. This time though. This time HE was the monster.  
In Tony’s head, his ancestors were chanting, urging him on. Telling him to kill that miserable excuse for a human, that wretch that dares to traverse the selfsame seas mermaids have lived in for thousands of years. That has dared to try and touch what is theirs. What is Tony’s.  
Tony knocked into the man again, and this time, they went down together. But Tony has good instincts, he always has, and despite the urge to rip and tear, he knew he was surrounded and didn’t have the advantage. Not there, at least.  
Tony twisted his left leg, got it under the soldiers legs, and pushed, he rolled the still-stunned man over himself, and then he launched them to his right. For once, the gods were smiling on him. The grounds on the islet were steep and slippery. They rolled right over the edge and sank into the waves.  
Tony smiled. Gottcha. 

 

The water was still shallow, but despite the man’s struggling Tony managed to kick out farther from the shore.  
The man was struggling seriously, realizing then that he was in danger. He surprised Tony by grabbing at his throat and trying to squeeze.  
Tony dodged easily, but he was shaken. This man has fought in water before. He had tried to squeeze the air out of Tony’s throat, to gain an advantage. Shame really. What a wasted effort.  
Trying to gain a hold on both of the man’s arms, Tony brought them deeper. He dodged every hold the man tried, directing every kick to bring them as far down as they could go. The soldier was stronger than Tony. He had probably been in more fights too, and come out the victor in most of them. A month ago, Tony wouldn’t have stood a chance. A month ago, Tony had been on land. 

There is an art to fighting in water. What tends to confuse most humans is, first of, that there is no such thing as up or down. Landcreatures are used to firm direction. Underwater, such concepts tend to get in the way. There is only the place where you are, and the place you need to be.  
Secondly, when facing someone who’s trying to kill you in water, is how water grabs at you. Air is quite happy to let you pass, but water provides resistance. Trying to elbow someone in the face is hard in water. Any kind of punching or kicking is for the most part useless.  
When fighting in the sea, you have to pull your opponent apart, rather than pummel him. Tony has become very, very good at pulling. 

It was over quickly. The man was confused from being barreled into, from being pulled into the sea, and from being so relentlessly assaulted. None of his usual tricks were working, and the damned boy that attacked him seemed intent on drowning down here. The soldier gave up on trying to get a hold of the slippery thing that had attacked him, and turned around to strike out for the surface. That was his first mistake.  
As soon as the man stopped fighting against him, Tony was on his back, grabbing his arms. Tearing of his tunic, he tied the man’s arms together as well as he could. Pinning the man’s legs between his own, Tony let out the last of the air in his lungs and started breathing earnestly through his gills. They slowly sank the last bit to the bottom.  
Hitting the sand with a dull thump that traveled though his knees and up his whole body, Tony reveled in his victory. The man didn’t know it yet, but he had already lost.  
Tony turned the man over, so he was straddling him. He kept the hold on the man’s legs, effectively keeping him in place. As soon as the man saw Tony, he started thrashing again.  
That was his second mistake.  
The more he moved, the faster his body burned through the small amount of oxygen it had left. And the man had already struggled so much.  
Tony could see it, could see how scared the man was. He could taste the fear pouring of off the man in waves, could practically read his thoughts.  
I don’t want to die, I don’t want to drown, I’m running out of air, I can’t breathe, Im don’t want to drown.  
It was almost endearing, the fear. It was irrational. Tony wouldn’t let the man drown, oh no. Never on his life. That would mean letting the man stay alive for long enough to run out of air. Tony had many virtues, but patience wasn’t one of them. 

Tony spat out his dentures. It took a bit of fiddling with his tongue to get them loose, but the way his teeth had been pushing, they soon drift away into the depths. The man caught eye of this, his gaze fixing on Tony’s teeth. Tony grinned again.  
The waves were rolling overhead, crashing and breaking in tune with the pounding in Tony’s ears. There was a mechanical feel to it, a peculiar impossibility. The world was so far away, it was like Tony was watching from behind a screen, behind a mask. Yet Tony himself was more present than ever, blood pounding faster and faster, rushing through his limbs as he hunched over, drew back his lips and tore through the skin around the man’s throat. 

 

Tony didn’t linger. The man was dead, his head almost detached from his shoulders. The current took his body and carried it downwards while his blood spread through the water, heralding Tony’s victory. Tony was victorious, in a way he hadn’t been before. He was breathing in the blood through his gills, he was swimming through the life of his opponent. He was more alive than ever before.  
Slowly the world returns from wherever it had gone. It became more than Tony and his kill. It also contained screams, and threats, and Steve. Gods, Steve was still up there!  
Berating himself for forgetting, Tony scrambled out of what’s left of his tunic and breeches. They would only get in the way. Absently he noted his gills were glowing gold, in almost the same hue as his scales. A fight response, rather than a flight one. The fins on his head were unfurling as well, slowly disentangling from his hair and flicking open in the water.  
His nails were as sharp as they would ever be, and Tony was only sorry they have not grown longer since he was last forced to cut them. This was the first fight Tony had initiated on his own, the first fight he had decided was worth fighting without anyone telling him why. He wanted it to be prefect. He wanted it to be terrifying. He grinned.  
It would be. 

 

… 

 

Steve considered that some things were too large for words to ever encompass them, far too important to ever be pinned down by something as fleeting as memory or paltry as words. All you could do was live them, every agonizing second of them, despairing in the knowledge that once they were over, they would never come again.  
The emotion he felt, watching Tony emerge from the sea, was very large indeed. 

 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Well, that's one more chapter down. I will finish this. And now I've just finished a course, so I might have more time and motivation too. If you feel that killing like this would be out of Tony's character, write a line and we can talk about it! Whoo! I feel that the times when Tony really loses it are usually when someone he cares about has been hurt, so this would be reasonable for him. 
> 
> Thank you so so much to everyone who left kudos while I hid away under my blankets, and thank you so much for the comments. They are what keeps me going, even when I contemplate just giving up.  
> please point out any spellling mistakes and I will fix them. it is late and I am tired.  
> I love you all, happy reading!


	65. A Bloody Victory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Here we are! Enjoy!

The fight was over. 

Tony threw of his last opponent and broke through the waves which were crashing increasingly hard against the shrinking islets and sounds. He shook his head to orient himself, and spun around until he saw the rock with Steve on it. A heartbeat and he was there, pulling himself up out of the water. Steve was sitting up and staring at him, and suddenly Tony felt afraid. 

The fear was different to the one Tony felt when he thought he was going to die, different also to the one he felt when he thought Steve was dead. Steve was right there, right in front of him, like he hadn’t been for months, like Tony never thought he would be again, and Tony was a monster. 

Tony regretted throwing away his dentures. His teeth were long and sharp, his claws were pushed out, fake nails dropped somewhere long ago. His hair was lying plastered against his scalp, doing nothing to hide the fins growing out of it and swaying gently as he moved. Even the scales on his legs, usually his best asset, the only part of him that could possibly appeal to people, were scary. They were glittering and shining like they should have been, but instead of his usual even nice golden colour, they were a motley rainbow of off-putting colours. Bruise-purple, scraped-of-red, threat-display bluish, and soaked in blood. 

Heck, Steve’s just seen him consecutively pull down and kill the four men who were still standing. Tony suddenly becomes aware that he’s still breathing through his gills, and that the last thing he swam through before standing up was the blood of the last man. He was literally breathing the blood of his enemies. Hastily Tony’s hands shot up and started patting his gills closed, before he bent forward and started retching up the water in his lungs. The liquid he coughed up was dark and thin and salty, and Tony wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before he straightened up to look at Steve again. 

Steve had stood up while Tony wasn’t looking. Tony felt his lips start to wobble. AS if in a dream, he saw Steve reaching out, lifting his hand. Tony took two steps closer. Not more, just … just close enough. Close enough to- 

Steve’s hand cupped his cheek. Tony felt a tremor run through him. He exhaled. Steve’s other hand went to his neck, pulled him closer. 

 

They were standing chest to chest, and Steve’s eyes were the brightest ting Tony had ever seen. The shine from his box didn’t come close. 

Tony wanted to say something, anything, and he opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He felt like he was gonna shake apart. 

Steve closed his eyes and gently leant his head forward until their foreheads were touching. Tony felt his breathing slow, until it matched Steve’s. It hit him then. 

He was here. 

In Steve’s arms. 

And everything was going to be okay. 

 

… 

 

Steve felt Tony’s breathing slow. 

Steve had thought his heart would burst, seeing Tony disappear with that first man, but before anyone could get their wits straight Tony had reappeared, this time practically shooting out of the water before tackling the next man back into the waves. The blood the spread through the sea would have been unsettling to see, had it not been for the fact that it had meant that Tony was winning. 

When Tony finally had emerged from the waves, dragging himself back onto the rock, Steve felt like he had never seen anything more beautiful in his life. Tony. Alive, in-the-flesh Tony. Tony, whose skin was ice-cold from the sea, but warming up quickly beneath Steve’s hand. 

 

“I’m sorry.” 

Steve opened his eyes and looked at Tony. “What for?” 

“Doubting you. When the armada showed up and cut of all escape routes, I was scared that you had come after me only to trick me and capture me.” 

“You had no reason to trust me.” Steve smiled. “Was the only thing you were afraid of that I’d betrayed you?” 

“It was not the only concern I had at the time, but it might have been the biggest.” 

Steve’s smile grew, and to his relief he saw the corner of Tony’s mouth quirk up a little. “You have fucked-up priorities.” 

“I’m well aware.” Tony raised his arms and put them slowly around Steve’s waist, giving him time to step away. 

Steve stepped closer, putting both his arms around Tony’s shoulders. 

“Are we hugging?” Tony sounded incredulous. “This is not how I saw this going.” 

Steves smile turns into a grin. “How did you see this going?” 

“I’dunno. Either with a shoot-out in a raging storm or me being dressed in a gorgeous vest and sweeping you of your feet and kissing you. Could have gone either way.” 

“Instead we’re here.” 

“Yeah.” 

“By the way, WHY are you here?” Steve frowned and took half a step back. “Shouldn’t you be inside on a ship, getting ready to sail out of here on a giant wave as the island collapses around you?” 

Tony had tensed up when Steve first started speaking, but then he relaxed. “You’re worried about me.” 

“You’re godsdamn right I’m worried about you! The first time I saw you you were getting the shit kicked out of you by a drunk my youngest soldier could have taken on in his sleep!” 

“I was having a bad day.” 

“It seems you’ve been having nothing BUT bad days since.” 

Tony frowned. “You don’t have to be an ass about it. I can clearly hold my own in a fight! Just look at how I took down those me-“ 

Tony abruptly shut up, and looked down. The fins on top of his head flattened back against his scalp. 

Steve was worried, but he didn’t understand why Tony fell back. As he watched, the fin right above Tony’s left ear flapped back and forth, twice, in rapid succession. Steve couldn’t help himself. He reached up to touch it. 

“Oh!” Tony reared back, and froze. 

Steve froze himself, his right hand extended in the air right where Tony’s fin had been a second ago. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. It was just, I haven’t- It was … cute.” 

Somehow, that seemed to be the right thing to say. Or perhaps not the right thing, but A right thing. Tony settled. 

“Okay. Sorry.” 

“No, don’t be.” Steve felt himself redden. There was so much he wanted to say, to do, but right then a tremor ran through the rock they were standing on, so violently that Steve had trouble keeping to his feet. 

They both looked up in alarm, suddenly remembering where they were. 

Steve looked back at Tony with a rising sense of dread. 

“We need to get you back in the cave! Back to the ships!” 

“No time,” Tony’s face looked ashen, “there’s no way we’ll make it in time.” 

“Then we’ll have to wing it.” Determination filled Steve. 

“Yeah.” Tony gulped and visibly collected himself. He looked out into the slowly dissipating mist, and when he looked back towards Steve, there was a familiar glint in his eye. “Hey, do you trust me?” 

And when faced with that, there really was only one answer Steve could give. 

 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd written this chapter over and over, and the result I got was actually way longer than this, but I hated it. I can't write interconnected scenes, and what I was trying to pull of was way high-stakes, and I hated it. SO I gave up, rewrote it into this, and posted it without looking. Im gonna lower my ambitions and expectations for this fic, and we'll see how it goes. Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment. This fic might not be my life-and-soul any more, but I still really enjoy feeback.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Wandering Thoughts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2339168) by [CatChan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatChan/pseuds/CatChan)




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